Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: A collection of  mostly  light-hearted oneshots and short ficlets about the lives and relationships of the various characters in Umineko. Ranging from Ange to Zepar and covering all in between, there should be something for everyone.
1. Best friend

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #1: Best friend

* * *

><p>Beatrice the Golden Witch was bored; mind-numbingly, brain-breakingly, indescribably <em>bored<em>. Being the great Golden Witch was fun for a few hundred years, but after one thousand it just grew _old_; even if, physically, Beatrice didn't.

There was, quite literally, nothing to do in the meta world. Nothing save drinking tea, arguing with Gaap about unimportant subjects neither of them really cared about, or thinking of suitable names for the spider that was scuttling round the inside of Beatrice's tea cup.

Beatrice wasn't sure how the spider had gotten there. She must've missed the critical moment when the spider fell inside whilst she was examining the dirt under her fingernails. However, Beatrice was- strange though it sounded- beginning to come rather attached to the ugly little creature. According to various myths and legends, witches were unable to touch spiderwebs because it caused them great pain, but Beatrice was sure that didn't apply to _magical _spiders in Purgatorio.

The way the poor, helpless spider kept trying to crawl out of the teacup, even though it would, inevitably, overbalance and tumble over on its back with its legs flailing in the air, was so cute and endearing.

Beatrice knew that feeling well. The poor spider was trapped, unable to do anything. However, despite the odds stacked against it, it refused to give up. The spider kept on going.

You could never give up. No matter how much pain built up inside your heart, you had to persevere. Otherwise life would defeat you. That spider seemed to know that better than anyone.

How poetic…

Beatrice smiled softly as she surveyed her arachnid friend. It had taken her at least five minutes but, finally, she managed to think of a suitable, grandiose name for such an inspiring insect.

…That being said, were spiders even insects?

Virgilia would probably know. Virgilia knew all kinds of trivia. Not that it really mattered.

The spider was to be dubbed Terrence Alfred Hector Oliver Nimrod the Third- but Terrence for short. Indeed, it was a lofty title, but Beatrice the Golden Witch felt the brave little spider deserved it.

Beatrice reached forwards, ready to help the spider out of its teacup prison, when-

"Milady, I just- kyaaaah! Spider! Spider! Kill it kill it killitkillitkillit!"

Beatrice gave a squeak of surprise, drawing her hands away from the teacup at lightening speed as- without warning- a blade of red light pierced through the delicate china. The teacup shattered on contact. It broke into pieces, the shards flying across the room and skittering to the floor.

Beatrice stared in horror, holding her hand to her chest, her heart thumping a mile a minute. Her wide blue eyes stared at the smooshed, incredibly dead form of her former best friend. Then- very slowly, her lower lip trembling, feeling rather more depressed than she should have done- Beatrice lifted her head.

She glared at Leviathan in anger.

"Urgh. I hate spiders... A-and those myths about spiderwebs hurting witches are really scary! Uuwaah..." Leviathan trembled in fear; trying to avert her eyes from the squished spider remains and bits of broken china scattered on the floor. As she spoke, her red sword began to disintegrate into nothingness. "Anyway, Milady, I was going to ask-"

But the look on Beatrice's face made Leviathan pause. Beatrice looked as though she'd just been slapped across the face. In fact… w-were those _tears_ in her eyes?

"Milady, what's wrong?" Leviathan asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Beatrice sniffed.

Then she said, her voice accusatory, "You're a murderer!"

"W-what are you talking about…?"

Beatrice's eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, Leviathan would have been a smush of innards and organs on the floor just like poor Terrence.

"You killed Terrence Alfred Hector Oliver Nimrod the Third! You're a murderer! Get out of my sight!"

Leviathan didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Hi~ Welcome to my newest 'endeavour' XD It sounds so epic when I phrase it like that, hehe~ XD Basically, this is a series of umineko oneshots that feature around the meta world crowd. That is: Beatrice, the stakes, Gaap, Virgilia, Ronove, Lambda, Bern, Cornelia, Gertrude, Dlanor and Will. I'm not sure if the last four count as 'meta world crowd', but they will appear in this collection, so nya XD~~ There will be a few random pairings thrown around here, but mostly these stories will be light-hearted humor, with maybe some darker humour or more sentimental stuff thrown in to balance it out :D

I am pondering how many oneshots to add to this collection, though. Should I do 50 or aim for 100? 100 is nice number, and I have a lot of characters to work with and loads of character combinations, so… Well, we'll have to see XP I've done about 23 oneshots for this collection already, I just held off posting the story because I wanted a nice Beatrice-centric oneshot to start off XP

Anyway, I apologize for the long rambly a/n. Future chapters won't have such long a/ns!~ -sweadrop-  
>I hope you enjoy it for however long it lasts, be it 50 or 100 chapters ^_^;;<p>

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**

22/12/2011 update:

Rewrote bits and pieces of it, got rid of spelling errors. Also, ... the collection features pretty much all the characters of umineko now, not just the meta crowd. And it'll probably be about 400 shorts long... XD;**  
><strong>


	2. Be my bride!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #2: Be my bride!

* * *

><p>It was a peaceful, quiet morning for the inhabitants of the meta world. Ronove, Beatrice's highly esteemed butler, was sat at the kitchen table, working through some chores whilst the atmosphere was still tranquil (i.e. whilst Beatrice and the stakes were still asleep).<p>

However-

"Hey, _Ronoveeee_!~"

The meta world was never peaceful for long. Especially not when Gaap, whose hair had been freshly styled and make-up properly applied, was awake and alert.

"Hello, Miss Gaap. It's nice to see you."

Ronove didn't look perturbed or surprised at Gaap's sudden, rather dramatic entrance. The portal demon's (pretty distinctive) upper torso had appeared out of a swirling black vortex in the middle of the table. Her elbows were leant against the white tabletop whilst her blue eyes bore into Ronove's.

The only outward sign Ronove gave of even noticing her was his polite greeting.

Gaap pouted. She liked it best when people screamed at her impromptu appearances. Virgilia was usually pretty good at screaming like somebody from a cheesy monster movie, but not Ronove. He was always calm and collected.

How boring.

"Whatcha doin', Ronove?~" asked Gaap, her voice sing-song and cheery. "Too busy to look at a sexy sweet devil like meee?~~"

"I'm afraid so," said Ronove, smiling. "I fear I am quite busy this morning. As you can tell, I'm darning Milady's socks-" Ronove showed Gaap the small darning needle in his hand and the ball of yarn, "-but I have also been sweeping the floors and making croissants for Milady's breakfast, and I should probably start on making the tea so…"

As Ronove's voice trailed off modestly (a butler did not like to boast about all the work they did), Gaap's eyes slowly grew wider and wider.

Then, with an excited squeak, she reached forwards and grabbed hold of Ronove's hands.

"Miss Gaap…?"

"I love you! Ronove, you're the _perfect _woman!" Gaap squealed, placing her hands on Ronove's shoulders and (inadvertently) pressing her breasts against his chest. "Marry me and become my wife! We'll sweat the details later- let's run away to the continent together!~ You can be my bride and do all of my cooking and cleaning and sewing!~ Forget about Lia, she doesn't love you half as much as I do!~"

"Pu ku ku~" Ronove only laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Gaap, but that would be impossible."

"Whyyy?~ Don'tcha wanna be my blushing bride?"

"I would be delighted, but…" Ronove looked down at Gaap's chest. "I am afraid you're far more of a woman than I could ever be."


	3. Serenade

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #3: Serenade

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ronove-"<p>

"I'm sorry, Miss Beelzebub, but I am not going to give you any more food- even if you _are _'starving to death', as you have repeatedly been telling me for the past half hour. I remain unmoved."

"No!" said Beelzebub, pouting, as she folded her arms. "That's not what I wanted to say at all! _Geez_. Way to jump to conclusions, _Ronove_."

"Then I apologize for being so hasty with my judgements," Ronove replied, unfalteringly polite as always. "However, not even you can deny I have good reason to be suspicious; especially when the contents of the fridge have, mysteriously, been disappearing as of late."

"That_ is_ indeed a mystery."

Ronove smiled. "Of course. And you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Beelzebub?"

"W-what! No!" She shook her head so hard her blonde curls bounced. "Stop being mean to me! I don't even, like, want to talk about food right now!"

"That's quite a pleasant surprise, pu ku ku~"

Beelzebub's eyes narrowed. "_What _did you say?"

"Nothing insulting."

"Right." Beelzebub cracked her knuckles menacingly- or, at least, as 'menacingly' as a short blonde girl in a formal suit/swimwear combination could manage (which, surprisingly, _was_ quite menacing. A lesser man than Ronove would've run away screaming). "Anyway, this isn't about food-"

"As, I believe, you've already mentioned."

"Yes!~" Beelzebub cried, throwing her arms wide with such passion she very nearly decapitated Ronove. "I, Beelzebub, have taken it upon myself to dedicate a _song _to you!"

"...Really?"

"Yep! I poured my heart and soul into it- really trying to get my feelings across! D'you want to hear it?"

"I would be delighted to."

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think?"<p>

"Ah, well~ I can't deny that I'm not flattered you wrote and performed a song for me… It was a very lovely song, by the way, Miss Beelzebub."

Beelzebub took the hem of her black, pointed skirts and curtseyed. "Thank you!~"

"However…" Ronove paused, attempting to find the correct words to describe his sentiments- which was a very rare occurance.

Beelzebub felt rather proud of herself. Her song really must have been amazing!

"Miss Beelzebub," Ronove continued, smiling a rather bemused smile, "don't you think a song called 'Beato's Asshole of a Butler Won't Feed Me Anything and Now I'm Starving to Death Because He's a Fucking Sadist' would have a fairly niche appeal?"


	4. Sign of affection

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #4: Sign of affection

* * *

><p>Virgilia sighed as she looked down at the near-comatose form of her 'friend' (to use the term loosely), Gaap. Gaap's carefully styled princess curls ('each single curl takes me twenty minutes- but it's worth it to look this beautiful!') were a mess, her skin was too pale and there were black, panda-esque bags cut underneath her eyes. Her whole body was trembling as she clung, limpet-like, to Virgilia's foot.<p>

"My head huuuurts, Lia."

"That's because you drink too much," said Virgilia, trying (gently, despite her increasing impatience) to prize Gaap from her foot. "Everything in moderation, yes?"

"Screw moderation! I wanna have fuuuun!~"

"And that type of attitude is precisely why you end up clinging to my feet every night. Haven't you learnt anything?"

"Learning is for boring people!"

"No, learning is for very _intelligent _people who can move on from their mistakes and become better for it."

"You're no fun, Liaaa! Boring, boring! Kyaha-" But Gaap's insane laughter was prematurely terminated by a moan of pain. "O-oww, my stomach…"

And then Gaap turned her head...

And promptly vomited over Virgilia's shoes.

Looking back on it retrospectively, Virgilia should have seen it coming.

It was the same thing that happened yesterday.

And the day before that.

Virgilia tried to stifle the urge to kick Gaap in the stomach. It took a lot of concentration, and she had to count to ten _very slooowly _under her breath to curb in her temper. Virgilia didn't like getting angry; it made her feel childish. She had to be the mature adult in this situation.

Besides, kicking Gaap in the stomach- whilst it would make her feel better momentarily- might induce Gaap to be sick again. In the long run, that would be incredibly counterproductive.

"Gaap," said Virgilia once her ten second countdown (which, in reality, had lasted a lot longer than ten seconds) was up. Virgilia's voice was eerily pleasant, given the circumstances- which was perhaps more terrifying than outright anger would have been. "I've been meaning to ask this for a while, but _every time _you get drunk you do this. Do you have an actual compulsion to vomit on my shoes?"

"N-nahhh~" said Gaap. She grinned. It was a grin far too cocky for one who'd just deployed the contents of their stomach onto their friend's feet- but that self-sure nature was Gaap all over. "I'm just doin' this 'cause I like you, Lia~ I wouldn't just vomit on anybody, you know! Take it as a compliment!~"

There was a small pause.

Then, "Are you saying this is a sign of _affection_?"

"Yep!"

"Well then… It's no wonder you have so few friends, now, is it?"


	5. Pumpkin

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #5: Pumpkin

* * *

><p>'Time' was an alien concept in the meta world. Time did not change, day and night did not exist, and it was impossible to tell Saturday apart from Sunday because days of the week were completely unnecessary. However, after watching events play out on a human game board for a while, Beatrice had- in a moment of whimsy- decided to celebrate Halloween.<p>

"It's a holiday for witches!" Beatrice said proudly, her arms folded. "Why can't we indulge in a few festivities? It gets so boring sitting around here doing nothing."

And thus, as the inhabitants of the meta world had decided to celebrate Halloween, they decided to do so in style. There was no point in doing it half-heartedly. Gaap had a lot of fun coercing Virgilia into modelling a few witch outfits ("I-I'm already a witch; anything I wear is witch-like!", "No, no, no, Lia; you at least need a pointy hat!"), Ronove baked Halloween-themed cookies, and the seven stakes were carving pumpkins.

"Urgh. Mine won't go right," said Leviathan darkly, staring at her wonky pumpkin with disgust. One of the eyes was higher up than the other and it only had two broken, misshapen teeth to fill its crooked mouth.

Belphegor's pumpkin, by comparison, was a work of art. The Stake of Sloth was such a perfectionist it was almost scary.

Leviathan glared at her sister's perfectly carved pumpkin with poorly hidden envy.

"Aww, c'mon, big sis, don't be too hard on yourself!" said Beelzebub, looking at Leviathan over the top of her own pumpkin.

Beelzebub's pumpkin had never been graced with the blade of her knife at all. Instead, it was peppered with teeth marks. Beelze's excuse was that she had been hungry- and it was a stupid letting her handle edibles anyway, because she'd only want to eat them! Whose bright idea had that been? Didn't they see that coming?

...Of course, nobody had thought Beelze was that obsessed with food to gnaw on the sides of a raw, unwashed pumpkin- but they put too much faith in the twin-drilled stake.

They really didn't know her at all.

"Yeah, Beelze is right!" said Asmodeus, looking at Leviathan's pumpkin appreciatively. "It's, um… grotesque-ness… really captures the Halloween spirit!"

"Perfect pumpkins are nice and all, but yours is really unique! Definitely! And you didn't even try to eat yours. You have some serious willpower, big sis! Hehehe~"

Beelzebub spoke matter-of-factly, as if everybody in the universe with more than half a brain cell would've considered eating their raw pumpkin to be the most logical course of action.

…Beelzebub did have a skewed way of looking at the world.

Leviathan's eyes began to light up at all this praise. "D-do you really mean it…?"

"Yeah. It's one kick-ass pumpkin!" said Beelzebub.

"The little squirts are right, it's pretty kick-ass. But… Now that I look at it seriously…" Mammon's voice slowly trailed off in thought.

Putting her fingers under her chin, and making small 'hm' noises under her breath, the Stake of Greed began to inspect the pumpkin; looking at it from all angles.

Leviathan flushed slightly as her work was put under such scrutiny.

"W-what is it? What's wrong with my pumpkin?"

"Oh nothing, nothing~ I was just thinking, that pumpkin reminds me an awful lot of somebody…"

"You mean it's like a portrait?" asked Asmodeus, eyes wide. "You mean Leviathan has some serious hidden artist skills?"

Mammon nodded.

"Well, who does it look like?" asked Leviathan eagerly.

"Well… judging by your pumpkin's small, piggy eyes, its hideous, bumpy complexion, and its obvious lack of dental care… Why…"

Mammon paused to build suspense. All the while, her smile grew larger and larger.

Then... she spoke.

"I'd say that pumpkin looks just like our beloved sister Satan! It's the spitting image! Gyahahaha!"

And all hell broke loose.

Mammon soon learnt that comparing Satan's face to the deformed monstrosity that was Leviathan's pumpkin _whilst_ Satan was holding a sharp knife was a very stupid move.

A very, _very _stupid move indeed.

…But it was still worth it.

Even if the object Satan ended up carving with her sharp knife wasn't a pumpkin after all.


	6. Morning breath

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #6: Morning breath

* * *

><p>"Don't you think Sleeping Beauty is a wonderful story?" asked Beato.<p>

For once, Beato wasn't cackling like a maniac.

Instead, she looked... honest. And innocent.

A very small smile was on her face, and her eyes were shining.

Virgilia's heart instantly melted. Beato was so stubborn most of the time- but now she was acting exactly like the cute young girl she'd used to be! Virgilia really missed the young Beato, who would eat her mackerel stew without complaining, and call her 'Teacher' without any irony in her voice.

Virgilia didn't comment. She didn't want to ruin this moment.

Beato continued happily, "I mean… Sleeping for a hundred years, only to be awoken by true love's kiss… It's such a romantic story. Even witches like me have a soft spot for things like that, kekeke~"

"Huh? _Romantic_?"

And with that sarcastic comment, the sweet and tender atmosphere was destroyed.

It was destroyed by Gaap.

"You think Sleeping Beauty is _romantic_?" the portal demon repeated. Her voice was incredulous. "Geez, Riiche, you have a lot to learn! And tsk, tsk, Lia~" Gaap waved a finger reproachfully at Virgilia. "Don't indulge in that child's foolish dreams!"

"I-it's not foolish!" Beatrice snapped, her face flushing dark red. "It's just a story- it doesn't have to be realistic!"

"Yeah, sure, it doesn't have to be realistic- but let me ask you a question!" Gaap stabbed a finger in Beato's face. "Would **you **want to kiss somebody who's been, like, a _corpse _for a century?"

Beatrice recoiled in horror, as though she had just been presented with a plate of Virgilia's infamous curry. Her face had turned pale green.

"O-of course not, no but-"

"Exactly! You might as well dig up a juicy corpse from a graveyard! Why search around for an echanted castle that just happens to have a princess? Although…" Gaap frowned; pondering. "Would a corpse even _be _juicy after that long, or would it all be decomposed and wormy and bony and stuff…?"

"Don't talk about corpses! There weren't any corpses in that fairytale! There weren't, there definitely weren't, don't mess around with meeeee! Besides, Princess Aurora's body didn't decompose. She was under an enchantment so she didn't age, so **there.**"

And with that, Beato stuck out her tongue at Gaap; then smirked, as though she had won the argument.

But Gaap was stubborn, too; and she refused to lose.

Not like that.

Ahaha~ When they argued like this, about such pointless things, it was kind of fun~ It reminded Gaap of those days when she had amused herself by tormenting that poor maid; hiding her small cleaning brush by day, and arguing about the mystery genre at night.

"Alright, I'll accept your theory that the princess was under an enchantment," said Gaap. "But that did that enchantment cover her teeth, too?"

"Well, teeth don't rot away, so... it should be fine...?"

"Oh, really? Oh ho ho...~" Gaap laughed ominously. "My breath gets pretty horrid after _one day_- but if we're talking _one hundred years, _that's, like, omega awesome halitosis! Bad breath to level a whole _city_ and wipe out entire populations! Her teeth would be all **black **and _withered _like stumps, and her mouth'd taste like a _crypt_, and you'd really wanna kiss that? Oooh!~ How sweeeet! How adorable! How roman- owww!"

It was at this point Gaap learnt it was best not to tear into Beatrice's fondest fantasies whilst a very protective, rather short tempered Virgilia was sat next to her.

That did not change the fact that Beatrice, the Golden and Very Disillusioned Witch, never saw the story of Sleeping Beauty in the same light again.


	7. Airs and graces

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #7: Airs and graces

* * *

><p>"I don't like tomatoes," said Beelzebub darkly, prodding her soup with the spoon.<p>

"Oh? Why not?" asked Ronove. His voice was surprisingly patient given the fact Beelzebub was insulting his cooking. Then again, Ronove was always charming.

"Muu… It's difficult to explain."

_Drip, drip, drip._

Beelzebub let the red liquid ooze off her spoon and splish-splash back into the bowl again. Her expression was stormy, as though she were facing a bowl filled of decomposed raccoon rather than tomato soup.

"I know you prefer sweet foods, but you can't live on cookies and cake, Miss Beelzebub. You might be a stake of purgatory, but you're not immune to toothache or gaining weight. I have your best interests in heart."

"I know, I know. It's just…"

"I'm not going to put sugar on your soup, if that's what you're trying to hint at."

"I don't want to put sugar on it! No sugar in the world could save _anything _involving a… urgh…" She made a face. "_**Tomato.**_"

"My, my. You really do seem to have quite a grudge against tomatoes. May I ask why?" asked Ronove, smiling. "Are they associated with unpleasant childhood memories? Would it be rude to ask?"

"No, it's just… Ch. You wouldn't understand."

"I could try."

"Um, well... It's been bothering me for a while, so I might rant a bit. You probably don't want to hear it, ehehe~"

"Rant ahead. I have to listen to Milady's complaints all day; I'm sure your tomato-related issues are fairly tame in comparison~ Pu ku ku~"

"U-um, well, if you're sure…" A small smile lit up Beelzebub's face. "O-okay then."

And with that, Beelzebub threw her spoon back into her bowl of soup with a _clatter_.

Then, she slammed the palms of her hands against the table top, rose dramatically to her feet-

-and began to rant.

"I mean, the biological definition of a 'fruit' is basically 'a part of a plant that contains seeds', yes? So technically, that means **any** so-called 'vegetable' that contains seeds is actually a fruit! Cucumbers, peppers, pumpkins… They're all fruits! But nobody seems to give a damn about _those_ fruits- no, it's all 'oh I'm sooo~oo smart because I know a _tomato _is a fruit!' and it's like well YEAH it IS but all those other vegetables-that-are-really-fruits are being SEVERELY underappreciated! Why does nobody care about the peppers or pumpkins? Why is always about the freaking _**tomatoes**_?"

At this point Beelzebub had to break off to draw breath- but not before she managed to stab a finger at the unassuming bowl of tomato soup on the table.

"Arghh, they're so _smug_- just… just look at them! It pisses me off! I bet those tomatoes think they're so **amazing **with their airs and their graces and their 'HA HA HA everybody knows _**we're**_ fruits because people REPRESENT our fruit-ly statuses, not like the poor cucumbers! Gyahahaha!' But doesn't that seem really entitled to you? Doesn't that just seem _WRONG_? The tomatoes will gives all the other fruits a persecution complex!"

There was another pause, as Beelzebub struggled to draw breath. Meanwhile, her face was getting redder and redder, until she almost looked like a tomato herself.

"Well, if you're going to use the _non-technical _definition of a 'fruit'- the definition that states fruits have to carry seeds BUT they also need to be sweet- then it's like what the fuck is a tomato doing calling itself a fruit anyway? It's not sweet! It's savory! SA-VO-RY! Why is a tomato the only SAVORY FRUIT that actually has the honor of being called a FRUIT by everybody in the **entire world**? What's so great about tomatoes anyway? Newsflash, you arrogant smug bastards: going by the biological definition you _can _be a fruit, but it's not an exclusive freaking fruit party where you get to sit and pretend you're on the same level of deliciousness as strawberries or something! You can try, but you're NOT! You're just NOT! You don't have TOMATO CHEESECAKE, do you? So HA! Strawberries will ALWAYS be better than you!

"Learn your PLACE, you filthy tomatoes! You're just not that special!"

And with that, Beelzebub sat back down with a loud _thump_.

Then she picked up her bowl of soup, and began to drink it down defiantly- quite forgoing the use of a spoon.

Her eyes were smouldering with determination... ... or maybe that was insanity.

Even Ronove, who was normally unshakable, was so surprised by Beelzebub's incredibly impassioned, incredibly indignantspeech about the 'purification of the fruit family' he_ stared_. He'd never seen the stake so angry before. Wasn't wrath Satan's title?

"…Miss Beelzebub," said Ronove slowly, delicately, trying not to anger the young girl. "If you claim to dislike tomatoes so much, why are you still eating the soup?"

"JUST 'CAUSE." Beelzebub slammed the empty bowl back down on the table. "I am going to prove a point. NOW I am going to eat some strawberry cheesecake, and I am going to compare the strawberries with those stupid smug tomatoes. THEN we'll see whether tomatoes have any right to call themselves fruit!"

Beelzebub reached forwards, grabbing hold of Ronove's collar. Her face was only a few inches away from his.

"Ronove! Make me some strawberry cheesecake, and make sure it's delicious! I'm going to teach those smug tomatoes a lesson! Strawberries will beat them every time!"

Ronove was far too disturbed (and ever so slightly fearful for his life) to say anything other than, "Certainly, Milady."


	8. Building blocks

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #8: Building blocks

* * *

><p>Belphegor's face was a picture of concentration as, oh-so-carefully (heart hammering, fingers trembling, breath catching in her throat) she raised her hand…<p>

And placed the fifty-seventh sugar cube to the top of her tower.

The tower swayed, wobbled… but, ultimately, remained upright.

Belphegor sighed, unleashing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Finally the incredible Castle Belphegor was beginning to take shape- and, one day, she would stack those sugar cubes high enough to reach the ceiling! It was a lofty aim indeed, but she was sure she could manage it.

Constructing her dazzlingly white tower had taken the greater part of three hours. Each and every single sweet, sugary building block was stacked up with immense precision so the unsupported structure could keep standing. Belphegor was a hard-working perfectionist even whilst she pursued useless tasks such as this (but it didn't feel so useless now she'd poured so much effort into it), and her tower would be a monument to her industrious, pedantic nature.

Her tower would be _big._

Her tower would be _beautiful._

Her tower would be-

"Oooh, sugar cubes!~~~ You've got so many- you don't mind if I take _one_, do you, big sis?"

"N-no, Beelzebub-!"

But Belphegor was too late.

The blithely smiling Beelzebub was already reaching forwards with her grubby, grabby fingers. Poor Belphegor was frozen on the spot in panic; only able to watch as Beelze roughly took hold of the top most sugar cube-

(The tower shuddered)

-and pulled the cube off the stack-

(the tower shook)

-and popped into her mouth-

(the tower swayed)

-and then, smiling, disappeared in a burst of butterflies-

-as Castle Belphegor came tumbling down in a snowy white avalanche of sugar.

Belphegor forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

Then, she started to breathe too much, and nearly hyperventilated.

That was _three hours _wasted! Three hours of hard work down the drain!

The side-tailed stake glared at the sugar cubes littering the floor- almost indistinguishable against their white backdrop. Then, with a 'tch' of irritation, she ground one of the cubes under her feet. The _crunch _it made was satisfying; as though she were stamping her shoes against Beelzebub's hand and snapping back all her fingers, one by one.

That was a pleasant fantasy.

And so, with that thought in mind, Belphegor crouched down on the floor.

She picked up a sugar cube.

Then she began to rebuild.

She made quite sure to drench her sugar cube building blocks with rat poison this time, though.


	9. Heart of the ocean

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So**** Much Fun  
><strong>Short #9: Heart of the ocean

* * *

><p>Asmodeus cradled the broken shoe as though it were a baby bird or a delicate ornament. She didn't know what had happened. She'd only tried Mammon's new shoes on for a few seconds, just to see how the five inch heels made her thighs look (completely <em>delicious<em>, if Asmodeus did say so herself). She hadn't asked Mammon if she could borrow them, but Asmodeus hadn't thought it would matter.

She'd try them on, then take them off, and nobody would have to know.

It was a victimless crime. Not even a crime, really, because she totally intended to give those shoes back, no matter how breath-takingly sexy they made her look and, really, _she _should have been the one with shoes like that, not Mammon, even if Mammon did pay for them.

It wasn't Asmodeus' fault she was so beautiful!

However, Asmodeus had stumbled whilst walking and, well…

**This** was the result.

Asmodeus had never realized just how dangerous walking in shoes like that were before.

The long, pointed heel of the right shoe had snapped off completely. It was still possible to wear the high heels, but having one foot elevated five inches higher off the ground than the other wasn't remotely sexy. Instead, it just looked kind of stupid.

Nobody would have looked good like that.

Asmodeus sniffed, her eyes filling with tears.

S-she never meant to do that! S-she wasn't a mean girl who broke others' things for fun! S-she... s-she never wanted this to happen!

"M-mammon, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to! It was an accident!"

Mammon wasn't as violent as Satan (if Asmodeus had broken _Satan's _shoes Satan would've quite happily ((or angrily; Satan was never happy)) strung Asmodeus up from the ceiling by her own intestines), but Mammon _was_ a stake of purgatory, and the seven sisters were renowned for their stabby ways.

Asmodeus winced, waiting for her punishment.

It... ... was probably going to be painful.

But it never arrived.

Nervously, Asmodeus cracked one eye open- then the other. She was still holding the shoes, and Mammon was still stood before her, and, funnily enough, Asmodeus was still alive.

That was a relief.

"Mammon…?" said Asmodeus slowly, hopefully.

"You really shouldn't have taken my shoes without permission, but… Don't worry about it!"

"E-eh?" Asmodeus' mouth fell open in shock. "Are you serious? You don't mind?"

"Well, I do mind~ But my heart is as big and wide as an ocean!~ I forgive you."

"T-that's a relief. T-thank you, big sis! Thank you!"

"Yep." Mammon smiled sweetly. "Don't oceans have loads of electric eels and jellyfish and sharks with big snappy teeth and stuff in them, too?"

If Asmodeus had been a character in an anime, a comically over-large droplet of sweat would have appeared on her forehead. She didn't like the rather dark turn this conversation had suddenly taken.

Mammon's smile didn't look so sweet anymore

In fact, it was quite creepy.

"U-um… Whatever are you talking about, big sis? Y-you don't have sharks in your heart, do you? T-that... um... I-I don't think I like your heart very much...!"

"Don't be scared!~ This is just Mammon-brand forgiveness... I might have a heart as big and wide as the ocean, and I might be willing to forgive you… But not until you've suffered for what you've done! The shark's going to eat you! Roaarrrr!"

And then Mammon dived on top of Asmodeus, tickling her mercilessly.

By this point, Asmodeus was squealing far too much to point out sharks didn't actually roar.

Neither did they tickle their victims to death.

But that was still preferable to being eaten alive.


	10. Cheese

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #10: Cheese

* * *

><p>"So when do you put it in the kiln?"<p>

"I already told you, Gaap, you don't make cheese by baking milk in a _kiln_."

"What about an oven, then?"

"No," said Virgilia, "cheese is not made by heating milk. I don't know where you heard that, but it's not true. Banish the thought from your mind. And please stop pestering me about unimportant trivia; I'm not an encyclopaedia. If you're so curious about it, read a book."

Gaap made a face. "If I'm going to read, I'd rather read a book with a plot. Why would anybody want to research how cheese is made? That sounds _boring."_

Virgilia's left eye twitched.

"If it's so boring, then why are you asking me? Rather; let me rephrase that. Why have you been asking me that _incessantly _for the past _half hour_?"

"I was just curious." Gaap smiled cheekily. "Anyway, if you're so smart, O High and Mighty Virgiliaaaa-" (somehow it managed to annoy Virgilia _more _when Gaap use her full name), "-then how **is **cheese made?"

"I don't know. I never professed to knowing that. Now can we please end this-"

"You don't _know_? You don't know how cheese is made and yet you _still _tried to shoot down my theory?"

"I only 'shot down your theory', as you called it, because you're obviously **wrong**. You do not need to be a… a… a professional cheese-maker to know heating milk does _not _create cheese; it creates warm, unappetising milk!"

By this point Virgilia was fighting against her own vocal chords, trying to keep them soft and smooth as her anger mounted- but she was fighting a losing battle. Once exclamation marks wormed their way into the ends of her sentences, she knew she'd already been defeated.

The smirk on Gaap's face told Virgilia, quite clearly, that Gaap knew.

She knew she was winning.

And she _loved _it.

"Heating milk _does _make cheese!" Gaap persisted. "That was how it was discovered. Somebody left a pot of milk on a hot stone in the sun, and when they came back it had turned into cheese!"

Virgilia sighed; tried to take in a deep breath. Tried to calm down.

When she next spoke, it was through gritted teeth; "That's. Not. True."

"Reaaalllyyy?~ You can't say that unless you know the truth for yourself! Until you tell me _your _explanation of how cheese is made, I see no reason to stop believing in mine!"

"…Please stop talking to me."

There was a very long pause. Virgilia tried to calm her breathing; tried to clear her mind of thoughts; tried to imagine she was a tree swaying in the breeze or a ripple on the surface of the water.

"Hey Lia~"

She was tranquil.

"Virgilia~~"

She was relaxed.

"Publius Maro Virgiliaaaa~~~"

She was-

"How do you make cheese?"

It was at this point Virgilia finally snapped.

"I don't FUCKING KNOW how CHEESE is made, _**GAAP**_."

"Gyahaha!~ Aww, your flushed face is so hot... pfffttt hahahahaha!~ Why are you getting so angry over something so trivial anyway, Liiia?"

Virgilia grabbed hold of a handful of her own hair and screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>1901/2012:** The first 10 oneshots have all been edited slightly to make them more pleasant to read.


	11. Saccharine

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #11: Saccharine

* * *

><p>"Would you like some tea, Lady Lambdadelta?"<p>

Lambdadelta rolled her eyes, as though Ronove had just asked her a very stupid question.

"Pffft. Noo~oo way. You _know_ I can't stand that stuff. Not unless it's filled with sugar."

"Ehh? But adding sugar completely masks the tea's subtle flavor!" said Beatrice hotly; glaring. "You might as well not drink the tea at _all_; sweeteners sully the complex combination of tastes and textures! It's like _murder._"

Lambdadelta laughed to herself; oh ho ho!~ It was so easy to get Beato all riled up like this! This was why having tea with Beato was so much fun~ This was why people picked on those who were more likely to cry or scream. A big reaction was more fun than no reaction at all.

The Witch of Certainty sniggered. "That's the point. I don't _want _my tea to taste like tea because tea is _vile._"

Beato's expression darkened. "... ... Ku... Where's your evidence?"

"It's my opinion. I don't need evidence."

"I won't accept your opinion until you back it up! After all, if the culprit was named at the end of a mystery novel but their motives or methods were never explaaaained, wouldn't you be annoyed? Yeah, it'd be a farce! So tell me then, Lady Lambdadelta!" Beato stabbed her golden pipe in Lambda's direction. "On what are you basing your opinion, exactly, that all tea tastes vile? Oh, I do wonder! Gyahaha!"

The smirk on Beato's face was completely disproportionate for a friendly conversation about personal preferences. Then again, Beato was like that. Despite her status as a 'witch' she was still pretty immature, so she often took things too far.

Heheheh~

That was why Lambda liked that strange child, though.

"Heh... hehe... touchy. Okay, I'll explain my reasoning. I hope you're listening well, though, Beato, because I'll only explain this once!

"I have bad memories of tea! Throughout my lifetime tea has haunted me! All the witches at the Senate used to lounge around and sip cups of tea _incessantly_ throughout their meetings; all of them judging each other based on how expensive or how expertly prepared their tea was! Aaaah, it got so hot and steamy in those meetings it was just like hell! The smell was so over-powering! It brought tears to my eyes! Just remembering it turns my stomach! Aaah, it was horrible, absolutely horrible! Anybody would hate tea after an ordeal like that! And I don't think half those witches even liked tea anyway; they just drank it 'cause Aguauau did. And I can't bring myself to enjoy anything Aguauau does.

"… …Any questions?"

Following Lambda's proud proclamation, there was a small silence. Ronove was wondering whether he should applaud or not. Beato, meanwhile, was sulking; arms folded, cheeks inflated.

That was how Lambda knew she had won.

Smiling, the Witch of Certainty reclined in her chair, and said, "Alright, Ronove. Can I have some hot chocolate, please?"

"Certainly. It's perfectly understandable that different people have different tastes."

Lambda's request soon brought some life back into the defeated Beato. In the manner of one clutching at straws, she said, "B-but it's not a tea party if only half of the attendants are drinking tea!"

"Tea parties do not require all the attendants to drink tea!" Lambdadelta insantly retorted. "If one person is drinking tea, the meeting can still quality as a 'tea party'! Aaah, you think you can trick me into drinking something I don't want by playing around with words like that? That's such an amateur move, Beato, I could cry! Oh ho ho ho!~"

"... Y-yeah, I like having lively tea parties like this. How nice, how nice… kekekeke…"

"...Forgive me for mentioning it, Milady, but I believe Lady Lambdadelta is right," said Ronove gently. "It wouldn't be much of a tea party if your only guest wasn't enjoying herself. You have to be polite to Lady Lambdadelta. As a host, it is your job to assure she is comfortable."

"Yeah, that's exactly it, Beato!" said Lambdadelta, smirking like some kind of bug-eyed, demented toad. "You've got to make sure I'm comfortable! Oh ho ho!"

"Tch… _Fine_. I guess it can't be helped if your taste buds aren't developed enough to appreciate the fine taste of a more mature drink."

"It's a shame, I know! Sorry to break your heart, Beato!"

"You're not sorry at all, though, are you?"

"Not at all!"

Beato faltered slightly at Lambda's brazen honesty. She was such a troublesome party guest…

To further compound Beato's irritation, Ronove was more than happy to comply to Lambdadelta's request. In a haze of golden butterflies, he set her much-desired mug of hot chocolate gracefully upon the table.

"Here you go, Lady Lambdadelta. I hope you enjoy it."

Lambda beamed. "Don't worry, I will! I'm going to savor this hard-earned victory very, veeeery slowly, and savor every laaast drop, bero bero bero!~"

Giggle, giggle.

"Hmm~" Lambda sighed blissfully, as she sucked on the end of her hot chocolate-covered spoon. "Beato, your butler is so lovely and charming; he's far more polite than you! Why don't _I _have a demon butler of my own?"

"Why, I would have thought the answer was obvious."

"Oh? How so, Ronove?" asked Lambda.

Ronove was silent for a few moments; as though pondering whether or not he could voice his current thoughts.

Then, he began to laugh softly.

"Pu ku ku~ Do forgive me for saying, but... you can be quite demanding at times; even more so than Milady. I doubt any demon would be willing to put up with the hassle."

Beato smiled at this; thankful for Ronove for defending her and her mockery of a tea party…

But, wait a minute... wasn't there something a little off with what he'd just said?

Hmn...

...

...

W-wait!

That was it!

Beato really didn't like how he'd worded _that_.

"W-what do you mean, 'even more so than me'? W-what the hell does that mean, Ronooooove? I-I'm not _**demanding**_! I just want everybody to do as I say all the time, what's demanding about thaaaaat?"

Ronove and Lambdadelta looked at each other… and then began to laugh.


	12. Harlot

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #12: Harlot

* * *

><p>Playing <em>Cluedo <em>with one murder weapon card missing was, as Beatrice, Gaap, Virgilia and Ronove discovered, not incredibly difficult. As there were only four players, Virgilia had suggested (in that typically cool, calm way of hers) that they use one of the spare player cards as a substitute candlestick. Thus, for their game, whoever held the Colonel Mustard card actually held a 'murder weapon'.

Technically speaking, they could have played the game minus one murder weapon, and it would not have made a great deal of difference. However, Gaap protested that the candlestick was the 'coolest weapon', and 'nobody cares about Colonel Mustard!', so Virgilia- for the sake of avoiding unnecessary argument- decided to dub Colonel Mustard the 'candlestick'.

Virgilia was fairly proficient at avoiding unnecessary arguments with Gaap. It was, after about one thousand years of being in the irritating woman's company, almost second nature.

(On an unrelated note, it was astounding that- over the course of one thousand years, with many, many games of_ Cluedo_ spread out between them- only _one _card had ever gone missing thus far.)

Gaap (playing Miss Scarlet, as always) was the first to make a suggestion about the unfortunate, mysterious murder of Mr. Black.

"Alright! Are you ready for the truth? Can you handle the truth?" Gaap said, shooting a pointed look at each person sat round the table.

Virgilia sighed. "It's only a game. Please hurry up and guess."

"Ooh! I'm not just _guessing_, Lia! I'm a no-nonsense, super-serious detective, and I know the **facts**! Gyahaha!~"

"You _can't_ know all the facts, nobody else has made a move yet," said Virgilia, trying to keep her voice calm. "But, minor nitpicks aside, please do hurry up."

"Okay. I'll tell you."

"Thank you."

"After this dramatic drum roll!~"

Grinning, Gaap began to beat the palms of her hands against the tabletop in a haphazard cacophony of noise with no real rhythm. If it was meant to be a drum roll, it was a very poor one.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "The suspense is killing me."

"I know!~" Gaap said, grinning. She cleared her throat. Then she said; "Okay! The murderer- or murder_ess_, I guess- was none other than the unassuming Mrs. White- or should that be-" Gaap stabbed an accusatory finger in Virgilia's direction- "Miss Publius Maro _Virgilia_, in the library with the candlestick! Or, in this case, as the candlestick card has gone MIA… Colonel Mustard!" Gaap grinned, her gaze flickering from Beatrice, to Virgilia, to Ronove in turn. "Can you DENY it? Can you deny the power of my undefeatable truth? It's so unshakable it might as well be red! Gyahahaha!"

"…Muu." Beatrice looked through her cards. She pulled a face; nettled at her loss. "…I can't deny it."

"…Neither can I," said Virgilia slowly.

"I can't either," said Ronove. He was the only person seated at the table who was genuinely smiling (Gaap's cruel, sadistic Glasgow grin didn't count as a real 'smile'; it was too eerie). "Well done, Miss Gaap."

"Yayy!~ I'm the champion!" cried Gaap happily, punching her fist in the air. "Aaah, I'm so awesome it hurts sometimes, gyahaha!~"

"Alright, nobody likes a show-off," Beatrice muttered under her breath.

"Nobody likes a sore loser either, Riiche!~"

"G-get off me! Stop ruffling my hair!"

"No! You're MINE!~~~ Miss Scarlet has totally DOMINATED Miss Peacock!~ Now you belong to ME, Riiche, and you've gotta do what I say! Oh yeahhh!"

"That's strange," said Ronove, voice cordial. "I didn't realize Miss Scarlet and Miss Peacock had that kind of relationship."

"Well, they do now~" said Gaap, wrapping her arms round Beatrice's upper torso and pressing her chin against the top of Beatrice's head. "Though, if you think about it… Isn't it kind of weird we used Colonel Mustard to replace the candlestick? It was Mrs. White and Colonel Mustard in the library? How would you use another person as a murder weapon, anyway?"

"I only swapped the cards around because _you _kept making a fuss about it," said Virgilia, obviously irritated. "Didn't you keep saying the candlestick was the most glamorous weapon and you didn't want to play _Cluedo_ if it wasn't included?"

"Yeah, but Colonel Mustard is no replacement for the sexy, sexy candlestick! What were you _thinking_, Lia?"

"B-but when we started the game you said you didn't mind if we changed the cards round! You said you'd think of Colonel Mustard as the candlestick so there wouldn't be any confusion!"

"But Colonel Mustard _isn't _a candlestick! I can't suspend my disbelief that far!" Gaap insisted. "What do you think Mrs. White and Colonel Mustard were doing together in the library, anyway? Did Mrs. White choke Mr. Black to death, and then old Mustard walked in and she had to kill him, too? Was he another victim of that evil temptress? Did she pull Mr. Black's arm off and use it to beat Colonel Mustard to death? Or... was something far more sinister going on?

"I know, I know! This is what happened! This is my unshakable truth, as the detective of this game board! Try and refute it if you caaaaaaan!

"Mrs. White and Colonel Mustard were having an affair! Nobody knew Mrs. White was cheating on her husband instead of Mr. Black! They decided that this simply couldn't do, because if the story got out it'd ruin Mrs. White's reputation! Therefore, the two forbidden lovers lured Mr. Black into the library and murdered him together with an unspecified weapon! Then, when they'd done that, they decided to make hot, passionate love over the corpse of Mr. Black!

"That is my truth! Can you disprove iiiiiiit? Gyahahahahaha!"

Virgilia's face turned bright red. "T-that doesn't happen in _Cluedo_- t-this is just a family game! That's why I can counter it!"

"Oooh, excuses, excuses~ Lia, your character is such a harlot! Pfftt ahahaha!~"

"I-I'm not a harlot!"

"Yes you are! Killing another man to hide your hidden romance, huh? Who'd have thought?"

"N-no, it's not like that-"

"It's always the quiet ones! Kyahahaha!~"

"Excuse me, Miss Gaap," said Ronove, tapping Gaap lightly on the shoulder

"Huh?" Gaap quirked a brow. "Whaddaya want, Ronove?~ I'm still in the middle of sleuthing, if you don't mind."

"I appreciate your imagination and enthusiasm," said Ronove, smiling. "However, I believe you're turning _Cluedo _into a very different kind of game. Moreover…" He glanced at Virgilia. "It would be prudent if you stopped teasing Miss Virgilia."

"Whyyy?~"

"Because if you don't, I honestly think she might kill you. We don't want a real murder on our hands."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **_Cluedo _:D  
>It's a really fun game :D<p> 


	13. Saving the day

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #13: Saving the day

* * *

><p>Satan looked so <em>cute <em>when she slept it was almost unbelievable! You'd never assume, not even for a second, that the adorable little girl with the messy bed-head clutching a pillow to her chest had the personality of a short-tempered old crone capable of committing murder! If you hadn't already known, you _wouldn't _have known- and that was just a little frightening. Whatever happened to the morals preached in fairytales, where all evil people looked hideous?

Maybe Satan should've worn a sign round her neck saying 'don't judge a book by its cover', or 'I'm as ugly within as I am adorable on the outside', or 'I'm more tsuntsun than deredere'. Or maybe even, mused Mammon, something nice and simple like 'caution: I bite'.

Actually, that was a very good idea! If Satan came with a warning label, like bottles of medicine and peanuts, then fewer people would be fooled into trying to talk to her, and fewer people would run the risk of tripping her terrible temper.

Lives could be saved if somebody with enough forward thinking stuck a sign to Satan like that!

Right.

Mammon needed a marker pen and a sheet of paper.

The brown-haired stake looked round Satan's bedroom; fitting her fingers underneath the bed, looking in each and every cupboard and even daring to shift Satan slightly in her sleep to search underneath the pillows Satan didn't have pressed against her chest. Eventually Mammon was able to find a magic marker, but the paper with which to write on remained elusive.

That didn't matter much though, did it? Mammon had to save lives (she wasn't sure whose lives, exactly, she was saving- but she was definitely saving _some _lives), and she had to do it _right now_! Justice couldn't wait! Just because there was a critical lack of paper in the world, that wouldn't stop Mammon in her crusade for peace and love and embarrassing her sister!

Yes, that was it!

Mammon could just draw on Satan's forehead!

She was a genuis! Hurray!

Humming a nonsense tune to herself, Mammon sat herself on top of Satan's torso, and uncapped the magic marker. If it were a movie, it would have been a very dramatic scene indeed; the _pop_ of the lid coming off amplified, whilst an ominous Latin chorus chanted in the background.

Mammon frowned.

...On second thoughts, maybe it was better this _wasn't_ a movie. An ominous Latin chorus might just have, _quite_ possibly, awoken Sleeping Satan. Then Mammon would have to explain why exactly she was sat on top of her grumpy, sleep-deprived sis, and why exactly she was holding a magic marker, and why exactly she was grinning such a creepy grin- and, of course, nothing good would come of that.

Nothing except broken bones and black eyes and accusations of strange, secret incestuous feelings.

Mammon was only trying to save the world. It was a bit upsetting nobody would thank her for her pains, but superman had to keep his true identity a secret, yes? Being a superhero wasn't much fun, but Mammon would suffer in the shadows. She would write warning labels on the faces of cruel villains when they slept and, slowly but surely, the world would become a better place!

That was her dream!

With that thought in mind, the happily smiling Mammon pressed the tip of the magic marker against Satan's face and began to write.

She soon found she couldn't stop there.

The temptation was too much.

Her hands wouldn't stop writing.

She simply _had _to add a pair of glasses and a false moustache (modelled on Ronove's, of course) to the warning label, too. If you were going to do something, you had to do it properly!

That was just common sense.

Satan would understand.

...Probably.


	14. Present

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #14: Present

* * *

><p>"Hey, Riiche~ Whatcha doing?"<p>

"Hmn? I thought it was obvious," said Beatrice, holding up a small, fluffy, yellow… _thing_… skewered by a knitting needle.

Gaap paused, doing a double-take, as she stared at the bizarre _monster _Beatrice held in her hands. What on earth was it meant to be? Lumpy custard? _Cancerous_ custard? Lumpy, cancerous custard with a sizable knitting needle staked through it? Or maybe the jaundiced spawn of Yog-Sothoth?

There was modern art, indecipherable sculptures and paintings that looked like random spots of paint on a canvas, and then there was… _that_. Beatrice's 'that' was in a completely different league to anything Gaap had ever seen before- and she'd been alive for a very, very long time.

"U-um… Well, gee... That sure is… unique?"

Beatrice's face fell. "Can't you tell what it is?"

"Maybe if you gave me a hint…?"

"It's Sakutaro," said Beatrice, her voice deadpan. "I'm sewing a replacement Sakutaro for Maria. After all, her birthday _is _drawing near, and I'd feel bad if I didn't get her anything."

"Oh! It's Sakutaro, is it? I see, I see…"

Beatrice scowled. She looked down at the misshapen, fluffy mass of yellow wool, and then back up at Gaap.

Then, Beatrice's lips twisted into an upside-down 'V' of disappointment.

Gaap immediately took a step backwards. When Beatrice pulled faces like that, it was never a good sign.

"You don't see, do you? You don't see at all! You had no idea what I was trying to sew! You're lying to me. It looks terrible. It looks completely awful and you think that's _hilarious_, don't you?"

"Well, no, I, uh-"

"Go away! I don't need _your _opinion, Gaap- I don't need, I don't need it at aaaaall! I'm the Golden Witch Beatrice, and I don't need to take advice from you! You… just can't understand the subtlety of my sewing, you can't… Y-you…" Beatrice's face worked through a series of emotions, before she finally settled on upset anger. Childishly, she snapped, "L-leave me alone!"

Normally, Gaap would have laughed- a derange chorus of 'gyahaha!'- before agreeing with Beatrice whole-heartedly that, yes, her attempts at sewing a Sakutaro did look quite terrible. A blindfolded, drunken child without any _hands _holding the knitting needles pinched between their _teeth _could have done a better job at replicating Maria's beloved Sakutaro than Beatrice could. In fact, Gaap was 99.9% sure if Beatrice _did_ try to hand such an ugly plushie to Maria the young girl would burst into tears- '_uuu~ what have you done to Sakutaro! Murderer, murderer! A-and I thought you were a good witch, Beato_!'

However, even though it went against her nature, Gaap found she couldn't say any of those things. She simply couldn't.

Not even she was that heartless.

Beatrice's hair was falling free out of its elegant bun, her eyes were downcast like a gloomy Sunday, and her fingers had been pricked numerous times with the hefty knitting needles.

Beatrice was trying.

It was obvious she was trying.

And that… was good enough.

"Don't worry, Riiche!" said Gaap, smiling. "You put a lot of love into it! Anybody can see that!"

Beatrice's eyes widened slightly. She looked up at Gaap, her lips falling open in a small 'o'- though it was obvious she was trying to maintain her anger.

"…Do you mean it?"

"Abso~omega~super~seriously!~ I _love_ it, it's so interesting and, um... unique! A lot of people say stuff about my clothes too, but they just don't understand how wonderful they are! It's not exactly like the real Sakutaro, but that would be boring! I think it's really cute… and I'm sure, if anybody could see how hard you're working, they'd love it to!"

"R-really?"

"Yes, silly~ Your big sister Gaap wouldn't lie to you, would she?"

Beatrice paused. Then, a small, tentative smile spread across her lips.

"…Thank you."

It didn't matter that Beatrice couldn't sew because each and every imperfect stitch had come from her heart. There was so much love in that deformed Sakutaro plushie it more than made up for the plushie's (numerous) faults and flaws.

So what if 'Sakutaro' actually looked like yellow hell spawn?

It was still wonderful.

It was wonderful because it was built on love.

And without love, it could not be seen.


	15. My fairweather friend

**Being ****Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #15: My fair-weather friend

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ange-"<p>

"Leave me alone."

"B-but Ange-"

"Be quiet. I don't want to talk to you right now."

Ange should have sounded angry… but she didn't. Instead, her voice was listless. Empty. It was a voice belonged to a person far older than her... a person who had simply had enough.

Enough of what?

Misery.

Bullies.

Loneliness.

Life.

Ange's face reflected that perfectly. No longer did she look fierce or stubborn or confident. Her sharp eyes were dull, like black stones set into her head. She looked sick; skin too pale and far too sallow, like spoilt milk. She lay curled up under her bed, still in her school uniform. Getting changed, apparently, was too much hard work.

Living was too much hard work.

All of a sudden, Mammon was a seized with a bizarre, childish fear. It pierced her heart, filling it with coldness that made her shiver from head to toe.

Perhaps those girls really _had_ managed to break Ange this time- and Mammon hadn't been able to _do_ anything about it. She was no better than an imaginary friend; only able to stand at a distance and grind her teeth whilst Ange was picked apart before her eyes.

Mammon had never wanted to help anybody other than herself before. Her own sisters could care for themselves, Ronove and Virgilia and Gaap and Beato doubly so- so why should she worry about them?

But Ange was different.

Ange was only a human. Worse still, she was a lonely human.

Ange tried to hide her suffering, but it was all too easy to see she was being broken down.

"Ange…" Mammon frowned; bit her lower lip. She'd never been very good with words before, and she'd never had the desire to comfort anybody before either. This was completely new to her. "Ange, don't be sad."

"I'm not sad," Ange muttered into her pillow. "I'm just tired."

"…Is tired worse than sad?"

A shrug. "It is what it is."

"That doesn't answer anything."

"Why are you still here? I don't know why you're worrying."

"W-what do you mean? Why shouldn't I worry?"

"Well. If you really cared… wouldn't you have done something before?"

Mammon flinched.

"Ange... T-that's a cruel thing to say!"

"And standing, watching, whilst your 'friend' gets bullied isn't? I think being a coward is even worse. You're meant to be one of the Seven Sisters of Purgatory, right? You could stop those… those… _monsters _if you really wanted to. But you don't. You never do."

"I'd help you if I could-"

"But you can't. And that's it."

Ange pulled the pillow closer to her chest, clutching onto it as though it were a life line. Her eyes looked strangely watery; her body trembling like a newborn chick left out in the snow.

This wasn't Ushiromiya Ange.

This wasn't the confident girl who soldiered on despite the astronomically low odds against her own happiness. Magic- true magic- could only occur when everything looked hopeless; and if a person never gave up, they could make miracles happen. Miracles like summoning all Seven Sisters of Purgatory, or reuniting with old cousins they'd long since thought dead.

Ange could do all that.

She could do all that as though it was second nature.

Maybe, one day, she'd even be able to revive her parents, or her older brother.

But this Ange couldn't do any of those things.

She wasn't a witch.

She was… what Ange had always been, buried deep down inside underneath all the bravado.

A lonely little girl.

How could she harbor the willpower to pour unwavering faith into an imaginary friend when she could hardly even believe in _herself?_

"… …Maybe friends like you really are useless anyway."

It was a whisper into her pillow; a throwaway comment; a thought that had, unbidden, wormed its way from Ange's lips. Even so, Mammon still heard it.

Even so, it still… … hurt.

Having a friend… was really painful…

W-why had Beatrice never warned Mammon how awful this felt?

If this was the true pain of friendship, then… she wasn't sure she wanted to have friends anymore.


	16. Swallow your pride

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #16: Swallow your pride

* * *

><p>As Lucifer stood in the kitchen, hair tied back and a fine film of flour coating the tips of her fingers, she wondered how it had come to this. What was she doing? She didn't know how to cook! She was a Stake of Purgatory, not a maid or master chef! That was <em>Ronove's <em>job, not her's!

It had started, as most of these things did, with one of Lucifer's annoying little sisters.

"Ronove's cookies as so~oo amazing!" Beelzebub had cooed, licking her fingers free of sugar. "I think I'd _die _without them, kyakyakya!"

Now, this was fairly typical Beelzebub behaviour and, for the most part, Lucifer was able to ignore it. She was meant to be the calm, collected older sister, so she couldn't afford to get irritated.

However, after Beelzebub's babblings about Ronove's cookies began to reach the half hour mark, Lucifer soon found she couldn't remain calm and collected anymore.

Not many people would have been able to.

"Shut up!" Lucifer snapped at her airhead little sister. Her red eyes were narrowed, face contorted into an expression of pure and utter loathing. "Shut up! Can't you talk about anything else other than **food**?"

"Huh? But Ronove's food is awesome~ You know, his mont blanc is-"

"Shut up! I told you to shut up, why aren't you shutting up?"

"But the mont blanc-"

"I don't **_care_** about the mont blanc- which is precisely why I'm telling you to _be quiet,_ okay? I hope you choke on a piece of mont blanc and _die_!"

Lucifer knew she was being immature and childish, but she couldn't help it! She'd never wanted to gouge anybody in the knee or chest or head (or, hell, _all _of them, at the same time- even if that wasn't possible and there was only one of her she'd give it a go, damn it!) so badly before!

"Besides," Lucifer continued, her voice still fraught will ill-suppressed rage, "Ronove's cooking isn't _that_ good, anyway."

It was a lie of course; a stupid lie that would, eventually, find Lucifer in the kitchen with her hair tied up wearing an apron. Lucifer_ did_ like Ronove's cooking, she really did. She just hated what his cooking did to Beelzebub, and how she could talk and talk and _talk _about it for so friggin long.

"Ehh?" Beelzebub had raised a brow at this. She folded her arms. Then, a cruel smile spread across her face. "Well, if you think Ronove's cooking is so awful why don't _you _try and cook something better yourself! I'll grade it, of course- and if it's not up to my high standards you'll lose aaaaall credibility in my eyes, dear big sis! Gyahahaha!~"

This should have been the point where Lucifer said no, she _didn't_ know how to cook, and she was more likely torch this universe with her skills (or lack of thereof) in the kitchen than produce any edible food. However, something about Beelzebub's laugh really grated on Lucifer. She knew, if she refused Beelzebub's proposal, she would look like an idiot.

Lucifer had her pride to think of! She couldn't have a stupid, blonde-haired little squirt like Beelzebub laughing at her! Besides, how hard could cooking be _really? _Leviathan could cook. Beelzebub could cook. Even **_Asmodeus _**could cook, to a certain extent, and she was an _idiot_. Lucifer couldn't let them defeat her!

Maybe cooking would actually be really easy, and Lucifer would discover the moment she stepped into the kitchen she had an amazing talent for it she didn't know she possessed. Maybe it was a skill that didn't develop, it just _happened_, like clicking your fingers. And didn't they (whoever 'they' were) say some people performed better under duress? That was why, when people were drowning, they suddenly- amazingly- learnt how to swim.

It'd be fine, Lucifer tried to reason with herself. Completely fine.

So she accepted Beelzebub's proposal.

...She was now wishing she hadn't.

Lucifer had absolutely no idea what she was doing! The various knives and forks and whisks and rolling pins set out before her could have been alien devices from Neptune as far as Lucifer knew.

What was she meant to do? How could _Asmodeus, _of all people, be better at this than her?

If that wasn't a severe knock to her self confidence, Lucifer didn't know what was.

Maybe, if she tried to reason with the explosive bag of flour (that, upon touching, had sent white bursts of powder up into her face and made her sneeze) then _it_ could cook something for her?

Lucifer sighed.

Or maybe that was a pathetic idea, and a sign she was losing grip of her sanity.

Maybe she really was going crazy...

"Miss Lucifer. What are you doing?"

Lucifer jumped away from the bag of flour as though it had scalded her. Her face burning red at such an embarrassing display (_it's only a bag of flour; get your act together, moron!_), Lucifer looked up under her straight-across black bangs so see Ronove smiling at her.

Somehow, his smile seemed more genuine than usual.

"U-um, well…" Lucifer's fingers curled up tightly into fists, until her knuckles turned almost white. "W-well… I'm… trying to bake something… I think…"

"You think?"

"I'm not actually sure, haha…"

"And your attempts at baking created all this mess, I assume?"

Lucifer sighed. Oh God, this was humiliating. At least Ronove wasn't one of her sisters.

"..Yes, it made the mess."

"And that's why there's flour on the floor? And on your hands? And… pu ku ku~" Lucifer shuddered as Ronove reached forwards and- very carefully- brushed his fingers against her cheek. "On your face?"

Lucifer's eyes widened. "There isn't flour on my face, is there?"

"Not anymore," said Ronove kindly. "So… What are you trying to bake?"

"U-um, well, I…"

"Alright. Let me phrase this another way. Miss Lucifer. Do you know _how _to bake?"

"U-um… um…" Lucifer pondered lying, just as she had done with Beelzebub- but look how _incredibly well _that turned out. If Lucifer said 'yes I can' Ronove would either a) realize she was lying and leave her to flounder around by herself or b) not realize she was lying and leave her to flounder around by herself. Neither were desirable outcomes.

With a small sigh, Lucifer's directed her gaze towards, towards the floor.

She was beginning to feel incredibly inadequate in Ronove's company.

He could bake- why couldn't she?

It was, cheeks flushed light pink, that she admitted slowly, torturously (she hated admitting her own weaknesses), "N-no, I can't."

"Would you like me to help?"

"Really? I mean... I can do this all by myself, I'm sure I can! I don't need you at all! I am a proud Stake of Purgatory, after all!" Lucifer folded her arms and stuck her nose up in the air- her last act of defiance before she caved in to the inevitable. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she didn't at least try to put up a bit of a fight.

But Ronove didn't get offended- and his smile didn't waver.

"I'm positive you can accomplish most of this alone as well; you're that kind of person. However, for my own peace of mind, I will still stay here and give you advice. Maybe that way, the poor kitchen has a chance~ Pu ku ku~"

"A-are you saying I'm going to set fire to everything?"

"I am saying it is a distinct possibility, yes." Ronove laughed softly at this. Then, still smiling that disarming smile that made Lucifer's face flush, he ruffled Lucifer's hair. "Don't worry. Everybody needs a little advice once in a while, hm? I promise, I won't intervene. I'll just give you a few tips every once in a while... and even if you happen to listen to them, you'll still have made the food all by yourself, won't you?"

Lucifer flushed. If anybody else had patted her on the head like that she would have staked them- but it was different when Ronove, did it somehow. It was… nice. Comforting.

Maybe she really wasn't alone. Just because she was the big sister, it didn't mean she was infallible, or that she never needed help. Lucifer always felt that she was expected to be the best, and she tried to live up to those expectations as best she could. However… maybe people expected a little _too _much of her.

Maybe she couldn't do everything by herself after all.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This short was based on a really sweet piece of Umineko fanart I saw, with a blushing Lucifer in an apron and Ronove is patting her on the head. It's so cute XDD~  
>http :  / www . pixiv . net / member_?mode=manga&illust_id=18350732

scroll to the bottom and it's the picture at the end ;3  
><strong>~renahhchen xoxo<strong>


	17. A fatal design flaw

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #17: A fatal design flaw

* * *

><p>The Chiester Sisters, proud members of the Chiester Imperial Guard Corps, were just as famous as Eiserne Jungfrau or the SSVD. They had fearsome combat skills at their disposal and could fire beams of light that killed instantly upon impact. It was impossible to hide from the arrows of the Chiester Sisters, which operated under a 'homing mode'. They <em>always <em>found their target- even if that unlucky person was on the other end of the earth.

"Man, my attack level must be pretty high, nyeheh~" Chiester 410 sniggered. "It's like, look out, you pathetic pipsqueaks- the Chiester sisters want to come and play with yoooou!~ But can you keep up? Or games can get pretty fast-paced! Nihihi~"

"Y-you shouldn't talk about hurting people so easily," said 45 worriedly, "i-it's just our job. We don't hurt people for fun…"

"Nyeheh, what's this, what's thiiis? From shooting down meteorites to stealing Luci's panties, I do everything for fun, nihihi! You're too serious, sis!"

"B-but 410-"

"Although... I guess you might have a point. Just 'cause we have high attack statuseses…es... es…? Um... Stati...?"

"It's 'statuses'. The plural of 'status' is 'statuses'," 45 corrected politely.

"Whatever~ I knew that, nihi!~ It's a horrible word to say, isn't it? How do you know when to stop adding 'es'? It just never ends!" 410 pulled a face. "Ooh, but I'm going off topic, nihi~ I was just tryin' to say… Just 'cause our attack statuseseses are godly, it doesn't mean we can get too arrogant!"

_Look who's talking, _thought Chiester 45. Of course, she didn't voice this thought. 45 was far too soft-spoken. Merely _thinking _such a mutinous thought about her beloved sister made her feel like a big meanie.

"What do you mean, 410?" was what 45 really said, her eyes filled (as per usual) with worry. If Chiester 410 was constantly smirking, then 45 was constantly petrified. "A-are you saying people exist who could combat our magic? O-oh dear… Lord Pendragon would be so disappointed… H-he might punish us…"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, nihi!~ I mean, we might have high attack power, but what about defence?"

"D-defence?"

"Exactly, nyeheh!~ Look!"

And with that, 410's reached forwards-

"W-what are you doin- kyaaa!"

-and she grabbed hold of both 45's cute, fluffy rabbit ears.

At the sudden, unexpected contact, 45's face bloomed dark pink, the same color as her hair. H-her ears were really sensitive; they existed to help her collect data in the surrounding area before launching an attack, a-and when people touched them like that-!

410 was completely undaunted by her sister's embarassment. If anything, it just made her squeeze her ears even tighter.

"Look, look! We have super-high strength, but we're really _easy _to grab hold of! I got your weak point in, like, five seconds, nyeheh! We might need to work on this obvious design flaw! Maybe, if I got a knife, and tried to cut them down a little…"

"W-what on earth do you want to do that for? You'll k-kill me! Kyaaaah!"


	18. Welcome home, Will

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #18: Welcome home, Will

* * *

><p>Willard H. Wright was <em>exhausted<em>. His day had been incredibly hectic, to the point where all he wanted to do was get home, collapse on his couch and stare listlessly at the ceiling for a while.

Usually, Will read books when he returned home- but, despite his love for mystery novels, the though of doing anything more intensive than sleeping was making his head hurt.

Dlanor had lent Will a few of her favorite novels only last week during an impromptu visit, and Will had intended to finish them, but that was kind of impossible at the moment. His brain felt like it had morphed into sticky treacle pudding.

Huh. Hadn't there been a weird witch he'd sentenced once who could do stuff like that?

...Whatever.

It didn't matter.

Dlanor would understand if he didn't return her books immediately. She might have been a rather terrifying girl, but that was only when she became involved in witches' games that didn't adhere to Knox's rules. In real life, she was a nice girl, and a really cute kid.

Despite popular belief, Will was friends with Dlanor. The stories about them crossing blades were completely ridiculous. Will wouldn't get any satisfaction from beating up a cute girl like Dlanor. That'd just make him feel bad.

He didn't have any such moral scruples about stealing her hat, or patting her condescendingly on the head, or teasing her about her lack of height, though.

It was with a sigh Will let himself into his home, nothing on his mind save collapsing onto his trusty sofa.

Heh. He must've been getting old. A few years ago he would never have dreamed of clocking off from work so early.

… ...Ha.

Reminiscing about the past was pointless. It'd only make his headache worse.

He needed to get some sleep.

"Diana, I'm home," Will called into his house.

He didn't recieve an answer.

He didn't expect one.

It would've been disturbing if he did, given Diana was only a cat. A cute (well, Will thought she was cute), fat, fluffy white cat, but a cat all the same- sadly without the ability of human speech, despite her sassy nature.

It was just nice having somebody to say 'I'm home' to, that was all. It made the house feel less empty.

With a yawn, Will let himself into his living room and turned to face his most beloved piece of furniture expectantly, when-

"W-what...?"

His eyes widened just a fraction; the biggest outward sign he would ever give of surprise.

The couch was covered in scratches. Ugly marks were littered across it absolutely _everywhere._ The cushions from the couch had all been pushed onto the floor in a haphazard mess, and one of them had been burst open. A book Dlanor had given him last week lay open on the floor like a gigantic paper butterfly. Several pages had been torn from it and they were crumpled up on the ground like fallen leaves.

Will did not have to look very far to find the culprit.

Diana was sat proudly on his ravaged sofa, her tail flickering backwards and forwards like a pendulum. Will swore she was laughing at him.

With the air of a long-suffering parent trying to discipline a naughty child, Will said, "Diana. What have I told you about destroying my furniture?"

"Mreow~" 'mreow'ed Diana insolently.

With that, she hopped off the ruins of the couch, like a princess gracefully standing from her throne, and she nuzzled up against Will's legs. It seemed to be an apology; a peace offering.

"Well… I hope you've realized the error of your ways. I'm very disappointed in you and I-"

But Will soon broke off his chastisement. Apparently, Diana didn't want to hear that Will was disappointed, because- about two seconds after he said it- she bit him.

Hard.

Will winced in pain.

A ruined living room, Dlanor's favorite mystery novel in tatters, and possible tetanus from a bad tempered, biting cat.

What a _wonderful_ evening this was shaping up to be.


	19. Moste malicious magickes

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #19: Moste malicious magickes

* * *

><p>"Urgh! This is so annoying!"<p>

"It's rare for you to say that. Generally that phrase is directed _at_ you, not _from _you."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. Little Lia is a comedian now."

"I'm not little."

"You were once."

"As were you," said Virgilia, sighing. She rather wished she hadn't made that deadpan, sarcastic retort a few seconds ago. The momentary satisfaction wasn't worth the hassle. She had to be the mature woman and end this argument (even though she had been the one to start it… But that wasn't important). "In any case, what's annoying you, Gaap?"

"This book!" Gaap declared, stabbing a finger at her open novel. "The stupid book you lent me!"

"You mean 'the Clavicle of Solomon'?"

"Yeah."

"When you say it's 'stupid', you do know you're referring to a book that contains vast magical knowledge studied from by all apprentice witches?"

"Yes. And I hate it. I've always hated it."

Virgilia's usually half-lidded eyes widened at this. When Virgilia was an apprentice witch she'd spent hours pouring over that book- and for Gaap to dismiss it like that… Well. It was nothing short of offensive!

"Oh, don't look so shocked, Lia. This book's written in such an idiotic way I can't help but hate it! The meaning of life might be written down on these pages, but I'd have no fucking clue because of all these extras 'e's and 'ye olde Englishe spellings-eth' floating around all over the place! Why couldn't this author write like a normal human being?"

"This book was written in _1572_. The English language wasn't finalised then and words weren't given uniform spellings. I think you're being overly judgemental."

"I know, I know," Gaap muttered. "But… it just seems so pointless!"

"I thought you liked pointless fashion accessories? Couldn't you look at the unregulated way of spelling as something like that…?"

"No, I really can't! There's a difference between clothes and books!"

"I-I'm sorry… I didn't realize you felt so strongly about this…"

"Well, I do! I know it's ridiculous to hate something so trivial, but I just can't get over it! Arghhh!" Gaap slammed the book shut and folded her arms, falling back against her chair with a _thwump_. "I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand. It's kind of like your irrational dislike of exclamation marks."

"I do not _hate_ exclamation marks…" Virgilia frowned. "I just think they look out of place in a narrative, that's all…"


	20. A fishy aroma

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #20: A fishy aroma

* * *

><p>"Mreow~"<p>

The small, subtle little mewing sound made Cornelia jump, nearly spilling her reports onto the floor. It was only through sheer force of will she managed to keep hold of them. She'd already tripped over her feet in front of Gertrude once today; she didn't want to do anything else stupid.

Cornelia sighed. She hated being so clumsy.

Then again, her clumsiness wasn't at fault here. If strange 'mreow'ing creatures were hiding out of sight, waiting to ambush her, she had a right to be just a little surprised and jumpy.

Once the young third class priest had managed to regain her composure she (very carefully) placed the reports back down on the table. Then she began to search her office cubicle for the elusive 'mreow'ing noise that had nearly given her a heart attack.

It didn't take her very long to find the culprit.

A fat, fluffy white cat lay under her table. It looked up at Cornelia with unsettlingly intelligent eyes. Somehow, that cat seemed far too clever to be a mere cat at all. There was something… a little 'off' about that animal.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

She'd never liked cats very much- and they didn't like her, either. She didn't know why, but her mere presence always seemed to stimulate cats into an insane fury.

"Here, kitty, kitty…" Cornelia said, her voice barely a whisper. It was stilted with uncertainty and fear. She knew she was acting ridiculously, being so afraid of a cat- especially when it was her job, as a proud member of Eiserne Jungfrau, to hunt down witches and demons. However, to Cornelia, cats were even _worse _than witches. At least witches didn't try to bite or scratch you.

Well... Cornelia didn't _think_ witches did. Never having been on a real mission for Eiserne Jungfrau before (she was only a lowly third class priest), the beribboned girl didn't know.

The cat did not move despite Cornelia's gentle coaxing. Instead, it continued to look – no, not just look, _glare_- at her.

Cornelia shuddered. She didn't want to spend time with the cat at all. Instead, she wanted to pretend it didn't exist. That was how she'd like to deal with most of her problems, if given the chance. Just ignore them and pray silently that they'd disappear by themselves.

It was a shame that never worked in the real world.

Practically, she knew she couldn't leave that cat under her desk for the rest of the day. The cat must have belonged to somebody. Even though it had no collar, it was too well-groomed to be a stray.

She needed to find its proper owner.

Cornelia knew she couldn't run away from her problems. Not anymore. As long as she wore the uniform of Eiserne Jungfrau, she had to remain professional.

"Let it be known that you can't stay here," said Cornelia- though more force of habit than anything else. The phrases 'please allow me to speak' and 'let it be known that…' were so deeply ingrained in her mind she used them almost constantly, without really meaning to. Once Cornelia had walked into a hat stand, and she apologized by bowing her head and saying 'let it be known that I am sorry'. A passing second class priest on her way to the water fountain had found Cornelia's exchange with the hat stand absolutely _hilarious._

"Come on, kitty," Cornelia continued to coax. "Please listen to me. You cannot stay under my desk. We're not allowed to bring pets to the office. I might get into trouble."

The cat didn't blink. Neither did it move. Instead, it just purred once more- but, somehow, it sounded majestic and aloof.

It really did feel like that cat was judging her...

"I need to find your proper owner. Do you not want to return to your owner?"

Unsurprisingly, the cat didn't answer.

Stupid cats. They were always so difficult to interrogate. They never responded to questioning properly.

It was almost as if they were defying her on _purpose_.

That cat was looking at her so arrogantly, almost as if it _could _answer her question, if it really wanted to, but it just couldn't be bothered. That kind of attitude annoyed Cornelia- it really annoyed her! People who acted high and mighty like that weren't all that incredible really; they were just _bullies_.

With a look on her face that plainly read 'I don't want to do this', Cornelia knelt down on the floor so she was almost eye level with the cat. Reaching forwards slowly, tentatively, she reached forwards-

_Crunch!_

-and a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in the tips of her fingers.

It took her a few moments to process what had happened.

Then... she started to scream.

The noise was almost loud enough to wake the dead.

"Oh. Miss Cornelia."

Cornelia turned her head in alarm, getting shakily to her feet. The cat came with her, its teeth still embedded into Cornelia's tender, delicate skin. The cat hung, suspended, in the air when she stood, its little legs scrabbling around to find purchase on the non-existant solid ground.

None other than Dlanor A. Knox, the Chief Inquisitor of Eiserne Jungfrau, stood at the door of Cornelia's office; lavender curls arranged neatly round her heart-shaped face, reading glasses on her nose.

Needless to say, she was the _last_ person in the world Cornelia wanted to see when she had a cat clamped to her hand.

"A-ah… L-let it be known that I am pleased to see you, Miss Dlanor!" Cornelia lied, her voice fragmented with squeaks and eeps of pain. She would have saluted Dlanor with her right hand, as per usual, but that hand was currently too busy being brutalized by a cat with very sharp teeth. Therefore, Cornelia had to use her left hand instead.

Dlanor stared at Cornelia.

"U-um… L-let it be known that this cat isn't mine!" said Cornelia hastily. "I-I, er, found it under my desk, and I-I know we're not allowed animals in here so I tried to get it to leave but it wouldn't a-and-"

"It's no PROBLEM," said Dlanor, her voice cutting through Cornelia's words effortlessly. "Thank you, Miss Cornelia."

"U-um… For what?" asked Cornelia.

"For finding Diana. She went missing a few days ago and Willard was searching for HER. He was quite UPSET."

"Y-you mean Wizard Hu- u-um, I mean…" Cornelia flushed slightly. She had to remain professional, so using Willard's nickname might have made her sound childish. "U-um… T-this cat belongs to Willard H. Wright?"

"Yes," said Dlanor simply.

Dlanor walked towards Cornelia and- very gently- prized the horrible, biting animal off Cornelia's fingers. The cat did not try to attack the Death Sentence Dlanor. Perhaps Diana was aware of Dlanor's reputation, and she knew not to hurt somebody who was so highly esteemed. Or maybe Diana was familiar with Dlanor? Cornelia had heard rumors Dlanor and Willard were good friends, despite their differences.

Huh.

Cornelia frowned, nursing her poor, swollen fingers.

"Why do all cats hate me?" Cornelia muttered- more to herself than anyone else.

Dlanor, however, heard her.

"Perhaps cats don't hate you, Miss Cornelia. Maybe your fingers just smell of TUNA?"

And, with that, Dlanor and Diana left Cornelia- leaving the third class priest to sniff her fingers in confusion.

Did her fingers _really _smell of tuna?

Great. She was going to be incredibly self-conscious for the rest of the day now.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>0102/2012:** Chapters 11-20 have also been edited now~ Yaaaay ^_^;;**


	21. Scars

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #21: Scars

* * *

><p>"Yay! I always wanted to go to the beach, nyeheh!"<p>

"D-don't wade out too far! Y-you might get swept away by the tides! P-please be careful!"

"Ehh? It's not like I'm gonna be defeated by a little water! You think too little of your super-awesome big sis! From defeating riptides to wrestling with sharks, to looking absolutely gorgeous in a revealing bikini, I can do anything! You worry too much, 45! Nihihihi~"

"We only worry about you because we care, big sis," said Chiester 556 nervously. "W-we don't want you to drown…"

Chiester 410, as always, didn't listen to her younger sister's pleas. Chiester 410 didn't really listen to anything or anybody save the voices inside her head, that routinely told her to be as irritating and irksome as possible.

People who listened to common sense were just so duuull, right? Nyeheheh~ Kind of like Lucifer~ There was a girl who needed to lighten up if ever 410 had seen one.

With a silly smile on her face, she continued to splish-splash her way out into the ocean, until the water level rose almost to her waist. She turned about gracefully, sending droplets of salt water scattering everywhere, and began to wave a hand at her little sisters, who were still stood on the shore.

Chiester 45 nervously dipped her foot into the undulating tide. Her toes were swallowed up with white foam. She squeaked in surprise- "i-it's cold!"- and backpedalled frantically, flailing her arms, so she fell over backwards and landed on her behind.

"E-eh? Are you alright, sis?" asked 556, running forwards to help her fallen comrade. "C-can you stand?"

Chiester 410 had to roll her eyes at this display of adorable air-headed-ness. Her sisters were so helpless. If anybody was going to drown, it'd be _them_. Their deaths would be a massive blow for all men across the world, given how cute they looked in their color coordinated gingham bikinis (red for 45, purple for 556, blue for 410, of course), but… Meh.

The universe would always have Chiester 410- and she was more popular than her foolish sisters anyway~

Nyeheheheh~

It seemed the world really did like bold girls more than cute, stuttering, stammering ones who blushed all the time, like her younger siblings.

Strangely enough, Chiester 00 was eyeing the water with trepidation, too. She hadn't even changed into her swimsuit- an adorable bikini Chiester 410 had chosen especially for her, with a little help from Gaap (Gaap was the best when it came to choosing clothes~).

Chiester 00 was still wearing her usual uniform.

On the beach.

While it was very, very hot.

That uniform might have looked pretty revealing- and, indeed, it was, given the thighs were completely bare- but the heavy black material that swathed the upper half of the body, with the military uniform layered on top, actually got really, really hot and sticky and sweaty- uncomfortably so. It was an annoying outfit made of fetishes that was easy on the eyes, but was a real pain in the fluffy bunny tail to wear. Chiester 410 didn't really like it all that much.

Nooow, why would her big sister be wearing her awkward uniform even on the beach?

The sun was shining, the sea was sparkling turquoise like so many shards of glass, and the sky was a beautiful blue! A scene like this called for a bunch of cute girls splashing around in bikinis, didn't it- or maybe eating ice-cream, or splitting watermelon, playing volleyball... anything- they could do anything; and it wasn't often they got a vacation like this! Too bad her young sisters were hopeless cases, and 00 seemed to shy to even wear her bikini!

What a waste.

"Why don't you get changed, 00?" Chiester 410 shouted, hands cupped round her mouth. Her words would've been swallowed by the _zaa_ of the waves and the _swish_ of the wind but, luckily, the Chiester sisters' ears had been tailored so they had impeccable hearing.

"I don't want to," Chiester 00 responded, her voice deadpan.

"Why not? Are you scaaared? Of a little wateeeer?~ Chiester 00, who bravely fights demons and angels alike on an almost daily basis, depending which side has given us the most carrots? That's not like yoooou, nyeheh~"

"No. I merely have no desire to get changed."

"Aww, are you embarrassed?~ Have you been eating too many snacks? Would you look all squishy and pudgy in a swimsuit? I promise I won't tease you too much, nihihi~"

"Please don't be rude. That's not it. I merely have no desire to swim."

Chiester 410 knew there was no arguing with that tone of voice. They might have been on holiday, but 00 was still her leader. Even 410 knew when she'd been beaten.

"Okaaay..." 410 sighed. "Killjoy."

Maybe she should just go play with Chiesters 127 and 20 instead. They were more fun than her own dull little regiment.

* * *

><p>Chiester 00 sat cross-legged on the sand, watching her underlings laughing as they splashed around in the sea. 556 and 45 had overcome her fears that the water was too 'c-c-cold!', and now she was enjoying herself almost as much as 410. A few of the other Chiesters had joined them in the sea, too- and they were all throwing 20's inflatable beach ball about, laughing.<p>

The sound of their happy shouts and squeals carried all the way across the private beach.

They looked so happy it was almost as if there was a light pink aura around them.

00... couldn't help but feel left out.

This was her own fault, though. She'd excluded herself.

Sighing, as she was so wont to doing, 00 turned her back on her sisters. Then, hesitantly, with trembling fingers... she pulled up the shirt of her uniform. She'd been wearing her bikini underneath; yellow checks, in the same style as her other sisters'. However, she doubted she'd be going into the sea.

Not when a multitude of scars littered her stomach.

An especially large white line sliced from the bottom of her right breast to the top of her thigh. They were all marks from the numerous skirmishes she'd been involved in with witches or demons; fights she couldn't avoid, as she was contracted, as furniture, to fight any opponent presented before her.

Even if that opponent was obviously far too strong for her to defeat.

Just like her missing eye and the chunk taken from her ear, they were signs she had truly been defeated once; physical reminders she couldn't remove, no matter how hard she wished she could.

She wasn't that strong after all.

And she didn't want her younger sisters to know that.


	22. Habitat

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #22: Habitat

* * *

><p>"Hey, Luci~"<p>

"What is it, Beelzebub?"

"Where does this live?"

"In the drawer by the oven, exactly where it's always been," Lucifer answered, her voice deadpan.

"Okie dokie~ Thank you, big sis!"

Lucifer watched as Beelzebub scuttled to the other end of the kitchen, spatula in hand. Somehow, her strange movements reminded Lucifer of a crab. If Beelzebub had opted to walk like a normal human being, instead of going sideways for some unknown reason, she would have made it to the sink a lot quicker. Maybe she was just doing it to waste time.

…That was probably the case.

Beelzebub wasn't good at doing very much, but she was truly excellent at loafing around.

Lucifer and Beelzebub had been given the task that evening of cleaning and drying the dishes, then putting them away. It was a system that worked on a schedule, and by the end of the week each stake had washed and dried the dishes at least once. Belphegor was fairly proficient at this task, as she took everything so seriously and prided cleanliness above all else. Beelzebub, however…

She was a completely different story.

Why had Lucifer been stuck cleaning up with Beelzebub, of all people? Why couldn't she ever work with Belphegor?

Lucifer was beginning to suspect Beelzebub was trying to be as irritating as possible on purpose.

"Okay, Luci~" said Beelzebub, after she'd made her way back from the oven. "I completed my mission!"

"Well done. Now you've got to do that at least two dozen more times," Lucifer answered, voice deadpan.

"Sure thing!~ So, um… Where does this live?" asked Beelzebub, holding up a whisk.

"It should be 'where does this _go_', not 'where does this _live_'," Lucifer corrected. "The whisk is an inanimate object. It cannot 'live' anywhere because it has never been alive at all."

"Oooh, I see," said Beelzebub, nodding. Her blonde hair bounced. "But Luci, seriously! Where does it live?"

Lucifer's left eye twitched in irritation. "In the drawer where the cheese grater is."

"Right! Thank you!~ And… hehe~ Which drawer is that?"

"The drawer to the right of the drawer where the spatula went."

"And where is-"

"You just put the spatula away _ten seconds ago_," said Lucifer through gritted teeth. "Honestly, Beelzebub, use your _brain- _as difficult though that may be for you."

"Ahh, okay then, hehehe," Beelzebub laughed, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "Sorry, Luci."

Lucifer watched Beelzebub scuttle off again, holding the whisk aloft as though it were a weapon. She was still doing that strange crab walk.

Lucifer sighed.

_Honestly, some people…_

The Stake of Pride turned back to drying the dishes, wiping all the soapsuds off with a cloth. Washing up was strangely relaxing for Lucifer; she could just stand there and think about things whilst her hands worked on autopilot, moving without any input from her brain. It was calm. It was soothing. It was-

"Luci~ I'm back!"

"Hooray."

"I know!~ Hehe~ Soooo~ Where does this live?"

Lucifer turned to shoot Beelzebub a death glare that could have turned a man into stone. Beelzebub, however, was not a man; she was an irritating young girl, and Lucifer's rage had no effect on her.

"Why are you asking me where the teacups go- not _live,_ **go**- anyway?" she spat. "You spend more time in the kitchen than anybody else! You're trying to steal food! You _know _where everything goes!"

"Yes~ That might be true, but…"

"But **what**?"

Beelzebub tilted her head to one side and smiled, pulling a 'cute' pose. "But washing up is really, reaaally boring!~ I don't want to do it!"

"So you're trying to make me do all the work?"

"Exactly!~ Wow, you're smart, big sis!"

Lucifer's teeth grit together in irritation. She tried to avoid looking at Beelzebub. She knew, if she did, her fist would have met the irritating little stake's face faster than you could say-

"So tell me, Luci~ Where does this live?"

"_**SHUT UP**_!"


	23. Here, kitty, kitty

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #23: Here, kitty, kitty

* * *

><p>"Here, kitty, kitty~ Come to your Master~"<p>

Bernkastel didn't even turn her head. Her eyes remained trained on her book as she said, voice emotionless, "No."

"Aww, Beeeern~ Don't be so boring!"

"I'm reading a book. I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone."

"Huhh?" Lambda quirked a brow. "Is it a _good _book?"

Bernkastel nodded. "Unique."

Lambdadelta pulled a face, glaring at Bernkastel's stupid book as though it had offended her. In a way, it had. The mere thought that Bern found a collection of thinly shaved tree-pressings covered in _words _that somebody not as awesome as Lambdadelta had _written _all bound up together more interesting than Lambdadelta herself was an insult! An outrage! And Lambdadelta would _not _let Bern ignore her!

"Bern, you're so mean!"

"Need I remind you I _am _the cruellest witch?"

…Well, Bernkastel was just _asking _for Lambda to start World War III with a brazen comment like _that_.

Lambda stalked over towards Bern as a cat would corner a small, flightless bird. The smirk on her face would have sent lesser men running in fear, tripping over their own feet- but Bernkastel was far too absorbed in her silly story to pay Lambdadelta any heed.

Well, the cute and pop Witch of Certainty could soon change that~

Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Lambdadelta leant forwards; pressing her face close to her inattentive, unresponsive waifu's, until they were just a few inches away. If Lambda had cared to, she could've smelt the kimchi on Bernkastel's breath when she exhaled.

Ufufufu~ Bernkastel ate such bitter and spicy food, it was no wonder she was always in a black temper. It must've been from that umeboshi tea. She needed a little more sweetness in her life- and Lambdadelta, being stuffed full of cotton candy, was the only one for the job~

"Pay attention to me!"

Despite their close proximity, Bern did not look shocked or surprised at all. Neither did she raise her head. Instead, she merely turned another page of her novel.

"No."

Lambdadelta gritted her teeth.

Bern was really asking for it now.

Really, really- truly. Most likely.

So Lambdadelta grabbed hold of Bernkastel's book.

Her movement was so sudden Bernkastel didn't have a chance to fight back. Pinching the book between her thumb and forefinger, Lambdadelta held it above Bernkastel's head- just out of her reach.

"_I'm_ waaay more exciting than a stupid book, Bern! A book can't cover your body in sugar and lick you all oveeer, or have cute fun sleepovers where we split open peanuts and lick salt from our fingers, and guess the color of the jellybeans we're going to get when we pull them out the packet, riiight?~"

"A book can't argue with me or steal my possessions or irritate me to the point where I might accidentally on purpose slip you arsenic when you're sleeping either, Lambda," said Bernkastel, her tone of voice glacial. "Give it back."

"No! Not until you _beg_ for it!"

"…I am not begging for you to return my book that _you _stole. If anything, you should be imporing _me_ to forgive _you_." Bernkastel smirked. "And I'm not sure I would forgive you, either. At least, not that easily. You would have to struggle to _earn_ your redemption."

"Oooh! That sounds like fuuuun, kukukuku~ You want me to glorify your name? Kiss the tips of your shoes? Act as your chair, or your bed, or your own candy-colored stress ball? You want to grind me down into the dirt, Bernnn?~~~ You want me to be your slave?"

"At the moment, I'd much rather be reading. It was a good book."

Lambda pouted, taken back. "So you'd still prefer reading over me?"

Bernkastel nodded.

"Tch. Well. If you want your book back sooo~_ooo_ bad you've got to ask _nicely,_ my little Kitty~ I really need to break you in better. Oh!~" Lambda's eyes lit up like fireworks.

"What is it? Have you finally realized just how pitiful your existence is?"

"Oh, ha, ha. Your jokes never cease to amuse. III know you love me really so your cruel words can't cut me! Oh ho ho!~" Lambdadelta laughed boldly. "Act~uuu~ally, I was thinking… You know you're, like, a cat girl?~"

"My title is 'Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles'. Being a cat girl does not feature into it. I am not a fetish."

"Yeah, but you've got a cat tail." A dark shadow crossed Lambdadelta's face. "A really dextrous cat tail, might I add~ Oooh, the things you can do with that tail! Kyah, it makes me blush just _thinking _about it! Oh ho ho ho!"

"I am incredibly talented."

"Yes, well… If you're a cat girl does that, like, um…" Lambda tapped her gloved finger against her lower lip in thought. Her smirk was so wide it split across her whole face, until the upper part of her head seemed in severe danger of unzipping itself and falling to the floor. "Does being a cat girl make our fabulously hot and sexy lesbian witches relationship bestiality?"

Bernkastel remained unmoved. Instead, she said, her voice calm, "I never thought about it like that."

Truly, this was a testament to how Lambdadelta's sick little mind worked.

"_I _think about it like that, though! Hehe~ Despite their differences- one girl with an insatiable sweet tooth, the other part feline who liksd _books_- the two beautiful witches fall in love! Or… have sex. Which is basically the same thing, rii~iight?"

"You sicken me."

"Buuut… Even if this _is _interspecies breeding, I really don't have a problem with it!"

"You don't have a problem with anything. You're a terrible person."

"Says yoooou, uufufu~ It's not like you're any better! But, isn't breaking taboos exciting? I think bestiality with my lovely Bern sounds really fun!~ A lot funner-er than making you angry at me!~"

"So does that mean you'll stop trying to infuriate me by stealing my possessions?"

"I'm afraid I can't promise that. I mean, I like it when we have these nice, quiet moments together, buuut I also like it when you get all angry and haughty at me 'cause seeing your face twist up into these horrible expressions is so much fun! Why should I have one or the other? Why can't I have both at the same time? Do you see my dilemma?"

Bernkastel saw Lambdadelta's dilemma perfectly. The greedy, childish witch was being selfish. She wanted everything about Bern all to herself.

…But Bernkastel didn't really have a problem with that.

At the end of the day, Lambdadelta really _was_ more interesting than any detective novel Bernkastel had ever read in her whole life.

Even if she didn't want to say it out loud.

Luckily, Lambdadelta knew her well enough to read between the lines.


	24. Bite me

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #24: Bite me

* * *

><p><em>Magic to make candies rain from the sky.<em>

_First, sit cross-legged on the ground and mutter the following inca… inca… _spell_ under your breath-_

Ange had to admit she felt a little silly following instructions written by a nine year old girl in pink pen. Maria's writing was a little messy, with a few misspellings and crossings out here and there, as though she'd jotted it down in a hurry before she forgot the 'magic words'. There were even little illustrations of witches adoring the page to complete the picture of juvenility. The pictures were in a different color to the text; it was obvious Maria had added them later, as an extra addition.

But Maria wouldn't be adding anything else to her diary.

Ange tried to push this thought aside. Every time she felt the pages of Maria's diary under her fingertips a mix of happy, painful memories resurfaced; a confusing combination that made her head and heart ache. Ange felt like a six year old again, looking up at 'big cousin Maria' with equal parts derision (borrowed from the adults who sneered at Maria's love for magic) and awe.

This book was the only link Ange had left with Maria. Mocking Maria's writing or poorly drawn illustrations would be like dishonouring the dead.

It was obvious, judging by the effort Maria had taken to write down these spells, that they were important to her. She thought they truly existed. Who was Ange to pour cold water on the fantasies of a young girl?

Ange couldn't do it.

Not when she had seen magic herself.

Not when she wanted to believe in this magic so badly.

Maria's instructions might have looked laughable to another person, but to Ange they were precious… and maybe they _were_ true. After all, the Seven Sisters of Purgatory existed. Why, then, was the idea of candies raining from the sky so ludicrous?

It wouldn't hurt to try.

If anybody had chanced upon Ange they might have found it strange, a teenage girl attired in the St. Lucia's uniform sitting on a grassy knoll in the local park, with a book of 'magic spells' laid out before her. However, to Ange, this was special. She was unable to look at Maria's diary in her dormitory at St. Lucia for fear one of the other girls would find it and laugh at it. If anybody laughed at Maria, Ange would kill them- she really would.

She wouldn't have anybody else sneering at Maria's innocence. Rosa had done it enough.

Too cruel…

The world was so cruel.

It was almost as if Ange could hear Maria's voice in her head, reading out the passages of her diary. Ange already knew each and every word off by heart. She stared at the pages so often it was a wonder the ink hadn't faded away.

_Alright, Ange. Now close your eyes and keep running the incantation through your head! Uu… You should feel a tingling feeling when the magic starts to work. Is it working?~_

Ange gasped as she felt a strange sensation running through her body. She shifted slightly on the grass, trembling. W-was it really working? Was she really going to make candies rain from the sky? It was almost inconceivable, but-

No, she mustn't doubt! She mustn't doubt Maria's magic! If it was real to Maria, then surely it was truly existed. Maria's truth had been denied for so long- and now Ange was the only one who could accept it.

She _would_ accept it.

Ange pressed her eyelids together tighter as the strange feeling continued to wash through her body, getting stronger and stronger, almost painful, biting-

_Biting?_

_T-that's not the kind of feeling I'd associate with raining candy. S-shouldn't be light and pleasant…?_

…

And then something clicked in Ange's head.

She opened her eyes.

And then she jumped to her feet.

All of a sudden, the mystery of the bizarre, tingling, painful, biting sensation was solved.

The ground was covered with ants.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Somehow, I feel this short is really, really mean XDD


	25. EXTRA: Letters from the seven sisters

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #25: Letters from the seven sisters

* * *

><p>It's nice to talk to you, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>. I am Lucifer, the oldest of the seven sisters, and I speak on behalf of my younger siblings when I say I'm delighted you're writing stories that feature us as the main characters. It is very rare people write about us; generally the stories on this site are focused around Battler and Milady. Whilst I have nothing against Milady (she's a very… interesting person), I honestly find Ushiromiya Battler puerile and childish, and his hair is ridiculous. I don't understand the appeal and it's flattering to see the seven sisters are getting the respect they deserve.

However, I do have a few issues with your stories. I am sure you must work very hard on them- but it is my job to give constructive criticism to others, in the hopes that they will improve. I apologize if I am too harsh, but as I look after seven younger sisters I have developed a rather sharp tongue.

Firstly, you appear to write about some of us a lot- Beelzebub in particular. This is a mistake. She's rather big-headed as it is, and your multiple shorts about her will only exacerbate the situation. I really don't want to listen to her complaining anymore. Surely it would be fairer to spend more time on Leviathan? You upset her deeply when you failed to make her the main focus in any of your stories, and I suggest you apologize to her before she does something drastic.

Secondly… I-I appreciate that you have written a few shorts about me… B-but must they be so humiliating? P-please don't broadcast my faults to people like this- I-I am the oldest sister, and I need people to respect me! J-just because I can't cook, i-it doesn't mean you should announce this to the world! C-can't you be more careful with the words you choose? A lady's pride is very important!

Please be a bit more tactful in the future! If you're not you might find yourself in a very nasty situation! Be grateful I'm even giving you a second chance, because most people who humiliate me like this don't live for very long. I'll make an exception this time because the others seem to enjoy these stories… but use your head next time before you write about something so embarrassing!

Lucifer, the oldest of the seven sisters

* * *

><p>Uwaaahhh! <em>Renahh, <em>I hate you, I seriously hate you! You've written 24 shorts by now- and I, Leviathan, am not the main character in ANY of them! You've written about all my younger sisters, but you haven't spared more than five words about me! I'm the second oldest sister! I deserve some more respect! The others will all laugh at me now, and it's all your fault! I hate you! I really, seriously hate you!

Uwahhhhhhh!

* * *

><p>I think your story is disgusting, depraved and completely pointless. No idiot would ever want to read about something so idiotic! Why don't you go die in a fire? It's obvious you didn't think these stories through! It's not funny at all. I bet you're just a sad person who stays at home in your parents basement with nothing to do but write stories about other people in embarrassing situations because you don't have the imagination to think of any original characters for yourself! That sickens me. Useless people like you shouldn't be allowed to live.<p>

Go die in a fire.

_**Satan**_

* * *

><p>Hello, Miss…<em> Renahh<em>? _Renahhchen_?

Why do people on the internet have such complicated names? To begin 'Renahh' is a corruption of 'Rena', correct? But even 'Rena' is a strange name. And 'chen'? That's not an honorific. If you called yourself 'Rena-chan' it would be much easier… However, you're not Japanese, so the 'chan' becomes completely ridiculous and unnecessary. This is so pointless…

_Sigh._

But I digress.

At least your name doesn't have numbers in it, or multiple 'X's, or a random smush of upper/lower case letters. Then I really would have cause to be irritated.

I'm pleased I appear in a few of your shorts. It's quite fulfilling to finally get the respect I deserve. I'm not jealous or bitter, I just… want a little bit of recognition. So that's nice, I suppose. Thank you.

Although, I really must comment on your sense of 'humor'. Personally, I don't find jokes about the female anatomy amusing at all. It's quite childish and immature, and I would appreciate it if you would stop that. When you write about such things it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, and it makes your writings appeal to the lowest common denominator. Could you not aim for some more sophisticated sense of humor?

That's all I have to say.

Thank you for listening to me. I will continue to read this series despite its flaws, and I will tentatively give it a six out of ten. There is room for improvement. Then again, nothing is perfect. I suppose that's a rather depressing part of life, but it's fruitless to complain.

Belphegor  
>The forth sister.<p>

* * *

><p>Hey, <em>renahhchen<em>~ It's Mammon of the seven stakes here~ Are you scared? Don't worry, I won't hurt you… _Much_. Kukuku…

I love that I appear so often in your stories! It's like, yeahh, all hail Mammon! Gyahaha! Oh, I am _sooo _going to rub this in Levia's face later. She gets, what, five lines in the whooole thing? Laaa~aaame. I guess you know who the prettiest, sexiest stake out of the seven sisters is~ Gyahahaha!

But, um… I'm not really that egotistical and big-headed, am I? I'm not! I think it's crazy-awesome I'm included so much (go me!), but I'm really as much of a bitch as you make me out to be! I have a nice side too, you knowww?

Well, I mean… I just don't wantAngetoreadaboutthis. Eheheh… It's a little embarrassing- but I don't want her to think badly of me!

What if Ange comes across these stories? Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think about my REPUTATION?

And… you're being really mean to Ange in these stories, too! Can't you make a few nice, happy stories with me and Ange in them? She's been through a lot! Be nicer to her orI'llstabyouTEEHEE.

I won't hurt you, but if you don't make another short in which I am completely awesome I might just manifest myself in your house and break your fingers when you sleep. If you hear something creaking in the night, you'll know who it is. Not that I would make any noise. I could kill you in a millisecond and you wouldn't even know :D

Better get typing, or shit will get real~ Magic really can mess you up, fufufufu~~~

Lots of love~  
><em>Mammon~~~<em>

* * *

><p>Yay!~ It's Beelzebub here, but you can call me Beelze… And~~ Eeee! I just read your series of shorts, <em>renahh<em> (you don't mind if you call you renahh right? We're friends!~) and… I'm included in them a whole bunch! YAY!~ / ^_^ /

I liked chapter three especially! Look at me showing Ronove how totally AH~MAYYY~ZING I am, kukuku~~ Umm, if I had any complaints (not that I'm upset cause I REALLY LIKE YOUR STORY XP) I'd say…

Why can't you write a short where I actually get fed for once? ;A; I'm a growing girl!~ I need vitamins! And cookies! RONOVE'S COOKIES!~~~ Does the punch line always have to be 'NO FOOD FOR BEELZE TROLOL'? That's just sad! DON'T BE SO MEAN ;A; D: ;A; D: ;A; D:

SAD FACES. SAD FACES EVERYWEAARRRRRRRRRR ;A;A;A;A;A;A;A;

Uuuu, now I'm getting hungry…

I think I'm going to go raid the kitchen ^_^;;

With sincere feelings sweeter than chocolate  
>Beelze, the cutest sister~~<p>

* * *

><p>Hiii, <em>renahhchen<em>-chan!~ This is Asmodeus, the stake of lust, speaking! As if you didn't know that already, though, hehe~ I saw you were writing stories about us seven sisters! Yayy, that's so cool! That stupid uncute Bahhhttler totally dominates most stories, but you're finally giving us some time to shine! Yayyy!~~ p(*＾-＾*)q

Do you like my cute emoticons? Aren't they adorable?~~ Big sis Luci tells me such things are vulgar, but you seem like a really nifty person, AND you use emoticons in your authors notes, too XP That makes it okay, ri~ight?

You're so cool! Please write more and more!~ Especially stories about me! I love it when people write about me! I need to spread my cute-ness worldwide! ヘ(^_^ヘ)(ノ^_^)ノ Think of all the poor, miserable people who have never heard of Asmodeus, and imagine how miserable their lives would be! Kekekeke~~ / ^_^ /

Ja ne!~ Bye-nii!~  
>Hugs and kisses （*＾＾）＾*） Chu！！<p>

Asmodeus, the stake of lust~~~

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So I tried to do something different for the 25th chapter cause, 25, ya know. S'a big number XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	26. Just desserts

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #26: Just desserts

* * *

><p>"Hey, Levia. Why'd you look so happy?" asked Beelzebub.<p>

It was unusual for Leviathan to look cheerful. Her eyes were usually filled with tears, mouth pulled into an angry scowl, even if there was nothing to be particularly angry/upset/jealous about. Leviathan's face simply seemed to just _go _that way; as though she were cursed by some higher deity to look miserable forever and ever, the end.

Now, however, Leviathan's smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Beelzebub wondered if she should wear sunglasses.

What had brought about this sudden change in Beelze's much-beloved, ill-tempered big sister? It was creepy- as though she'd had a complete personality transplant!

…Maybe Lucifer had died and Leviathan had just been named the eldest sister or something.

That sounded like the most likely cause for this atypical show of happiness.

"Oh, no reason~" Leviathan said and- no, _seriously-_ her voice was light-hearted and _sing-song._

Argh, she actually sounded _cute _when she did that. Cuteness was Beelzebub's job, not Leviathan's! Leviathan was stealing Beelzebub's status as the adorable sister! This was a _disaster_! What if Levia, with her cunning cute ways, managed to get into Ronove's good books, and then he started doting on _her _instead of Beelzebub? Beelzebub would die- she'd truly die!

Kyaaaaaaaaa!

Leviathan smiled, unaware of Beelzebub's inner pain and torment. Softly, she said, "It's just… Heh~ Pudding looks so good once you've opened the box and tipped it onto your plate, right? It tastes nicer this way… Eating from straight from the packet takes away some of the flavor."

Beelzebub looked down at the white table. A yellow, jelly-like mass was wobbling dead-centre on a plate, topped off with a layer of chocolate.

Leviathan was getting this excited about packaged pudding…?

Lucifer wasn't really dead?

That was just sad.

Both of those points were so sad Beelzebub could've cried.

Beelzebub herself would never know the joy of opening a package of pudding and tipping the wobbly substance onto a plate. Everything the Stake of Gluttony ate that wasn't up to gourmet standards made her feel ill. Her palette had long since been spoilt by Ronove's excellent cooking, to the point where almost everything was bland and tasteless to her. That pudding might have looked delicious to Leviathan, but it was making Beelzebub's stomach turn!

…This wasn't fair.

That was why Beelzebub slammed her fists down on the table angrily.

"Why do you get to enjoy a piece of happiness that I don't? It's not fair! I hate you, Levia!"

And with that, Beelzebub- in a fit of childish envy- swept Leviathan's pudding off the table and onto the floor.

Leviathan's eyes widened- before they began to fill with angry tears.

She started to scowl.

Just like it should have been.

Leviathan wasn't cute anymore.

The balance was restored.

"M-my pudding!"

And all was well with the world.


	27. Raising the steaks

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #27: Raising the steaks

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ronove!"<p>

"Hm? What is it, Miss Gaap?"

Ronove turned around, expecting to see the blonde-haired portal demon stood before him. However, he didn't.

The scene that met Ronove's eyes was so bizarre even the demon butler had to stop and stare.

Ronove was fairly used to Gaap and her eccentricities. He'd grown up with the curly-haired demon, and Gaap had been just as childish and immature all those thousand sof years ago, with the same penchant for bizarre fashion. That was probably why it was so difficult to perturb Ronove. He was, after all, a close acquaintance of one of the most bizarre demons to walk the meta world.

However, what Gaap was doing right now…

Well, not even Ronove could have predicted this.

Gaap, unusually enough, was on her knees before the fridge, her head of blonde curls almost stuck fully inside it. Meanwhile, her fingers- tipped with impractically long red talons- were searching inside for something at rapid speed. It was, apparently, a very elusive 'something'. Gaap soon began to throw random foodstuffs behind her, over her shoulders, as she plumbed the depths of the vegetable crisper.

Gaap was renowned for doing some very odd things, but this one took the cake even for her.

Or the cauliflower.

Or the broccoli.

Or, indeed, any of the other random vegetables that were rolling across the ground.

When a whole cabbage went flying through the air Ronove finally managed to regain his composure. If he didn't question Gaap about her strange new hobby (bowling with vegetables? Smashing pumpkins?) then his head would soon be knocked off his shoulders by a rogue turnip.

That wasn't a phrase Ronove had ever thought would apply to him, but there you go. The world was a strange place.

In this situation, life really was throwing him lemons- and he had to make the best of it.

"Miss Gaap… Forgive me for sounding rude, but what in Baal's name are you doing?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Please do not sound so surprised," said Ronove, unable to stop his smile. "Trying to play netball with the contents of the vegetable crisper isn't generally accepted as a normal pastime… Not even for a demon like you."

"I'm not looking for vegetables, dummy," said Gaap, (finally) extracting the upper half of her body from the fridge. She turned around, pouting, and folded her arms. "I want to find some meat- like steaks or something. What's with all the vegetables? We haven't all gone vegetarian, have we? 'Cause if we have I never got the memo! I wanna file an official complaint!"

"No, that is not the case. You may breathe a sigh of relief. You could only find vegetables in your search because you were looking in the vegetable crisper. I believe I already told you that."

"…Oh." Gaap's eyes widened with realization. "Oh, I see. Where's all the meat then?"

"Before I tell you- which might not be wisest thing to do- may I first ask what you want the meat for? Are you trying to cook?"

"Huh, me? Pfft. No way! That's your job," said Gaap, rolling her eyes. "I'm not playing the adorable demure housewife. I defy your gender roles and substitute my own!"

"Mm. Good for you. I wish you luck in your mission. But that still leaves us with a pressing question. What do you want the meat for?"

"Oh~ Wellll… It's a work in progress and I'm not sure it'll work, but I had the most fantastical idea!" Gaap said, her whole face lighting up.

As she spoke she clasped her hands to her chest, a large smile spreading across her face. Excitement practically radiated from her. It was always endearing to see Gaap getting so fired up. Generally these moods of euphoric happiness occurred when she was irritating Virgilia (or Beatrice, or the older stakes, or… Well. Gaap wasn't too fussy about who she annoyed, really), stalking hot guys or making clothes.

"Yes, please continue. I'm afraid I'm still confused. How does the acquisition of raw meat factor into your 'fantastical idea'?" asked Ronove, idly turning a caught cabbage over in his hands.

Gaap paused- most likely for dramatic effect.

Then, she spread her arms wide, her smile widening even further, and declared to the heavens-

"I'm going to make a dress!~"

"…Out of raw meat?"

"Yep yep!" Gaap said, nodding furiously. "It'll be so cool! Like, I heard about this one infamous human singer person who wore these amazing clothes, and I was like 'wooahhh, I want to do that too!' It'll be so cool! And people will think I'm making some statement about, like, important issues in the meat industry or something, when really I'll just be screwing around with their heads! Isn't that awesome? If the meat dress goes well I could incorporate vegetables into the design… I'm so excited!~ I'll look soooo hot!~~~ Where do you keep the raw meat, Ronove?"

Hm. So Gaap's excitement did stem from fashion-related euphoria after all.

Ronove couldn't help but smile. Even though Gaap was anything other than 'normal', she was still fairly predictable.

Despite the sheer…_ insanity_ (there was really no other word for it) of Gaap's latest 'master plan', Ronove didn't have the heart to chide her. Being alive for one thousand years did get quite dull. Eventually, it got to a point where you thought 'well, why not?' to whatever crazy idea your brain managed to throw at you in a fit of boredom.

Gaap's smile was so bright Ronove couldn't quite tell her to leave.

"Ah… The meat's in the second fridge beside the sink. I'm surprised you didn't find it yourself, you were so intent on your mission. Pu ku ku~"

"Hehe. Sometimes, when I get so fixated on my future plans, I get blinded to what's sitting right in front of me," said Gaap, grinning.

Then- almost _skipping_ forwards, her heeled shoes going _tap tap tap_ on the floor- Gaap took hold of Ronove's shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Yay!~ I love you, Ronove!~~ I'm going to look awesome, you see if I don't! Kekeke~"

Gaap turned about once more- a flurry of impractical red dress and impractical curls- and began to raid the correct fridge to get ingredi- uhh, _materials _for her impractical new outfit.

All the while, Gaap was singing to herself under her breath- something that sounded vaguely like; "_rah rah ah ah~ Roma roma ma~ Ga~ap, ooh la la_…~"

Ronove could only smile, shaking his head.

Gaap really was the most ridiculous person he'd ever met.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Lolll such a lame pun in this chapter title XD –is shot-  
>I like terrible puns though ;3 So it's all good. I'm probably one of the few people in the world who finds Christmas cracker jokes genuinely amusing (although I heard people don't have those in the US… What's wronggg with you? XDD)<br>I think Gaap might be jealous of a certain attention-grabbing singer, or maybe she just wants fashion tips from her, heheh… XDD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	28. Double act

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #28: Double act

* * *

><p>"O-oh no… I-I left her here overnight… B-but the girl I love has… has… I-I… There's no pulse. M-Michaela… Michaela! P-please, oh please-"<p>

"Huuuh? Is he meant to be _**upset**_ by this sudden turn of events, darling Furfur?"

"I wouldn't know, my dearest Zepar! The poor little child's acting is so laughable it's bringing me to tears!"

"Not the tears I believe he was aiming for, though!"

"Very true! Gyahahahaha!"

"Fufufufufu!"

The cackling twins were soon distracted, however, by a rather angry _ahem _noise coming from a spectator seated behind them. They gave Zepar and Furfur a sharp look; a clear indication that she wanted them to shut up.

"Ahh~ Some people are so boring," muttered Furfur, turning- reluctantly- back towards the play.

The undisputedly creepy twins, Zepar and Furfur, had gone to the theater that night to watch a rather popular new play. The play was about a tyrannical princess and her eerily similar-looking butler. Zepar and Furfur had been attracted to the play by the prospect of 'forbidden love' between the selfish princess and her butler (who, it was later revealed, was her identical twin). However, the play had, thus far, been a disappointment, with wooden acting and not enough incest- staples for any successful story.

In this scene the twins were currently watching the evil princess' butler, Allen, holding the cold and dead body of his beloved, Michaela. Michaela had died of exposure in a well whilst hiding from the soldiers of the evil princess who wished her dead.

…The plot really was quite convoluted.

The blond actor with flyaway hair playing Allen gave Zepar and Furfur a sour look. He did look kind of cute when he pouted like that, but it wasn't enough to salvage the pitiful excuse for a 'story' playing out on the stage.

"M-michaela," the blond actor continued, looking down at the corpse of his beloved. "W-what shall I do…? I-I loved you… I said I would protect you… A-and yet, was my love not enough? Was-"

"Gyahaha! I'm sorry, I'm sorry- but this is so feeble I can hardly contain my laughter!"

"I know how you feel, my dear Zepar! There isn't any passion in this performance, or any real love!"

"Love is a wonderful thing! This play sullies the name of love with its poor acting and trite storyline!"

"The true nature of love cannot be compressed into a two hour long play! Love is eternal and untamable!"

"Truer words have never been spoken, my dear Furfur! Oh my… When you talk so passionately, I just… I… Aaaaah~ I can hardly contain myself- it moves me so deeply!" said Zepar, taking hold of the other's hands.

"D-do you really mean it, Zepar?" asked Furfur. Furfur's voice was deliberately shy and tentative; an act that made the demon of love sound like a shy, stammering school girl.

"I mean it, Furfur~ You are my world, my universe! A life without you would be no life at all; instead, it would be painful torment and unbearable agony!"

"Z-zepar… E-even though our love is forbidden, you would still say such things to me…?"

The twins stared at each other intently, their fingers linked together. Their faces were pressed so close their noses almost bumped, and Furfur's cheeks were a delicate, rose-petal pink.

"Don't be silly, my darling Furfur~" said Zepar, voice dropping in pitch slightly as black gloved fingers brushed Furfur's jaw. "Our love may be forbidden in the eyes of society- but I care not for them, as long as you remain by my side."

"O-oh, Zepar… M-may I believe you? M-may I believe I love you?"

"Ahh, Furfur~ If only you could love me as much as I love you."

"T-then let me try to learn! Let's stay together!"

"Forever!"

"Love is eternal!"

"It never dies!"

"Then my love will never die!"

"Neither mine!"

"I love you!" the pair of twins cried simultaneously.

The whole theater became deathly silent following that exclamation. You could have heard a pin drop. All eyes were focused solely upon the two demon twins. Nobody was watching the play- which was just as well, considering the actors were no longer acting. However, Zepar and Furfur were too shameless to be embarassed by all the attention they were recieving. If anything, they reveled in it. It was their duty to extol the virtues of love to whosoever would listen!

Then, with their tear-filled proclamations- Furfur's face still flushed, eyes sparkling- the twins fell into a deep embrace, pulling one another together so tightly they could hardly breathe.

There was a long, stretching silence; a wide gulf of complete and utter soundlessness.

And then, slowly… ever so slowly…

There was applause.

Nobody was sure who started it- save, perhaps the actors on stage. The one who had begun to clap first- which started as a surprised trickle and then grew louder and louder- had been none other than the green-haired, twin tailed girl who played Michaela.

Funnily enough, she was supposed to be dead.

It was quite strange what the power of love could do.


	29. And the mome raths outgrabe

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #29: And the mome raths outgrabe

* * *

><p>"Double word score! That's sixteen points to me, Bern!~"<p>

Bernkastel and Lambdadelta were seated at a white table in some nondescript corner of the meta world. Lambda's head was resting in her hands, elbows on the table-top, bright red eyes staring, unblinkingly, at Bernkastel- just like a bird who had caught sight of a nice, juicy insect to gobble up. Bernkastel, meanwhile, stared back at Lambdadelta, completely undaunted. Bernkastel might have been looking at a common garden vegetable for all the interest she showed in her opponent.

It was strange to think that these two powerful witches could become so ensconced in a simple game of scrabble.

Then again, they took everything very, very seriously. There was a huge punishment game riding on this. The winner got to layer the loser with melted chocolate and then lick it off slowly, lick after agonizing liiiick, so the loser's skin blistered and burnt and their skin peeled away with each stroke of the tongue.

Neither wanted to lose under these circumstances- and it gave the simple game a more... interesting twist.

That was how witches' entertained themselves, after all.

Bernkastel's gaze fell to the board, scrutinizing the word Lambda had just put down. Lambdadelta had already scribbled her new, improved score on a piece of paper- "_yay! I'm winning~_"- but Bernkastel wasn't quite prepared to accept that move.

"Lambdadelta."

"Hmn? What is it?" asked Lambda. She giggled. "Are you sad 'cause you're looo~sing, Beeeeern?~ Are you mentally prepared for your hot, painful, blistering, chocolatey death? 'Cause, if you're really scaaaared about it, maybe I'll be a little nicer to yooou. I'll stick bits of kompeito candy in your beautiful eyes so you don't need to see my humiliating you with my toooongue- how does that sound? Aren't I nice! Oh ho ho ho!~"

"...That sounds wonderful," said Bernkastel coldly, "but please do not speak as though you have won yet. I am merely… confused."

Lambda smirked. "You? Confused? Oh ho ho! That's a new one! What's wroooong?"

Bernkastel looked at the scrabble board set out before them for a few moments.

Then, she folded her arms.

Her voice was crisp and clear when she said, "You appear to be under the impression 'mome' is a word in the English dictionary. It's not."

"Huh?" Lambda pouted. "Of course it is! Lewis Carroll! 'And the mome raths outgrabe!' Everybody knows that poem!"

"It's a poem constructed of nonsense words. They're not in the English dictionary. They're not in any dictionary."

"Yes they are! You just can't stand that you're losing! Stop taking away my victory, Beeeeernn! I know you're desperate to be turned into delicious food for me really- I can teeeell!~ Why don't you just surrender to your fate like a good girl, huh?"

Bernkastel sighed.

"... ...Fine. I'll accept your move."

"Yay!~ I love you Bern!~"

"Ah, don't love me just yet. I haven't finished." An eerie smirk split across her face; emerging from her earlier blankness so suddenly it was a little disconcerting, even to Lambdadelta. "Honestly, Lambda. If you're going to cheat, why do it for sixteen points? You should do these things with a touch of style- otherwise, I might get bored. You're so naïve. See. Watch me."

With that, Bernkastel picked up the letter blocks before her and began to arrange on the board, until she didn't have a single one left.

"There. I've used all my letters, so that's a fifty point bonus, and I've landed on two double word scores and a triple. That's four hundred and twenty-two points to me. I do believe I am the victor."

Lambda's eyes widened.

Her mouth fell open.

"Y-you can't do that!"

"Why not? If you're allowed to cheat, I believe I'm perfectly entitled to."

"A-at least my word was actually used in a real, famous poem! In what planet does 'qwertyflerp' exist, anyway?"


	30. Cutie honey

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #30: Cutie honey

* * *

><p>"Rudolf! Hey, Rudolf!~"<p>

The high-pitched voice reverberated throughout the corridors of the school, turning many heads; not just the person's whom this over-exuberant greeting was meant for.

A teenage girl with long, ginger hair and freckles ran up to Rudolf, her feet clunk-clunk-clunking against the floor. Rudolf wasn't prepared for this. She wrapped her arms round Rudolf's chest forcefully, nearly pushing all the air out of his lungs (_ow! _Was this girl superhuman or something!), and rested her head on his shoulder. Her tackle-hug was so violent Rudolf was very nearly thrown backwards against the wall.

Damn, this girl was strong…

Clingy, too.

Rudolf sighed. Why were all the girls he dated like this? Being hugged at random was kind of fun at first, but if you were trying to get home from school and you kept being bombarded by insane kamikaze girls it was just a little irritating and-

Was she rubbing her head against his shoulder?

And not just her head…~

…Well. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted. It'd be cruel to push such a pretty girl away, right? He was a gentleman- he didn't want to make her cry! Ihihi…

"Hey, Rudolff~" the girl whined, blinking up at her prisoner with imploring eyes. "You do remember who I am, riiiight?~"

Uh…

Aheheh…

What was her name again?

Rudolf vaguely remembered meeting up with her a few times, saying the same trite, cliché things like 'I love you' etc etc that girls seemed to swallow up, but he couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

Damn.

It was a _curse_, being a teenage kid blessed with incredibly good looks, a vast legion of pretty girls on his heels and a poor memory! Well, the first two weren't a curse, but it was so annoying when girls said things like '_well, if you know me so well what's my favorite color_?' and '_why did you order me meat, you know I'm a vegetarian!_' and '_I can't believe, after what we did, you can't even remember my name! You're the worst kind of person_!'

Yeah, like names were important anyway. Rudolf didn't need to know a girls' name to stick his tongue down her throat, and they never usually had any complaints when it was actually happening.

Hypocrites.

They just liked to make things unnecessarily complicated.

This girl was so damn insistent, though. Rudolf got the feeling she was the kind of woman who'd pack a punch if he upset her despite her frail appearance. Rudolf couldn't let himself get hit! If his handsome face was marred or bruised thousands of cute girls across the nation would be so disappointed!

For those imaginary girls, he had to remember this redhead's name.

_What was it…?_

_Ayumu?_

_Asuna?_

_Asami?_

Suddenly, Rudolf was struck with a marvellous idea.

Why did he need to know her name? He could sidestep around this easily with a little ingenuity!

"Of course I know your name," said Rudolf, smiling, as he squeezed the girl's shoulders. "You're just being paranoid…"

_What pet name should I use?_

_Cutie?_

_Honey?_

_Some girls like one but __not the other- but this is a 50/50 guess. It's easier to choose one name out of two than one name out of millions._

_Cutie?_

_Honey?_

…_Just pick whatever. She won't care._

_Haa, I'm so smart it hurts sometimes._

So, with a winning smile, Rudolf held the little red-head girl to his chest and whispered _~sensuously~_ in her ear;

"You're too paranoid… Cuntey…"

All of a sudden, the atmosphere became very cold.

That... didn't turn out too well...

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Teenager Rudolf XP I imagine him being something like Len from the song 'Spice'. Although, I don't actually like that song :/  
>This was based on something from fml . com, in which a waiter at a restaurant tried to call a young girl 'cutie' and it got mixed up somehow and he ended up calling her… a very different name XD It made me snigger for a while after I read it because I am a child.<br>I might branch these shorts out past the meta world crowd, so I could do a few things involving the Ushiromiyas and their servants, Lion and Erika… Which would be fun :D What do you think?~

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	31. Asymmetrical

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #31: Asymmetrical

* * *

><p>"Asmodeus, hold still."<p>

"Huh? What is it, big sis?"

"Your pigtails aren't even," Belphegor explained, adjusting Asmodeus' left pigtail with perhaps a little more force than necessary. Belphegor sighed. "Little details like this may seem unimportant, but they can be rather irritating. You should take greater care when you style your hair. Uneven pigtails are a sign of sloth."

Asmodeus winced. Her head jerked roughly to the right, pigtail held between Belphegor's fingers. The sudden, tugging movement was so sudden Asmodeus had her suspicions that Belphie wasn't really trying to fix her hair at all. Instead, she was trying to break her _neck._

The look of intense concentration on Belphegor's face was nothing sort of horrific. Her crimson eyes were narrowed, her lips drawn into a thin line that clearly read 'one wrong move, and I'm pulling this pigtail straight out of your skull!'

Asmodeus shuddered.

Belphegor always got so absorbed in her work, being the perfectionist that she was. To a lazy girl like Asmodeus dedication like that was a strange concept; almost_ alien_- and just a little frightening. What if Belphegor's hardworking attitude was contagious, like flu and measles and a bad fashion sense? Asmodeus didn't want to spend the rest of her life making sure her pigtails were _exactly so _in her bedroom mirror; she'd rather die!

"Belphie, you're hurting me!"

"You have to suffer to be beautiful," Belphegor said through gritted teeth, her voice clipped. The puppy dog eyes Asmodeus gave her went completely unnoticed.

"B-but, Belphie," Asmodeus said, after a small pause, "what about _your _hair?"

"What_ about _my hair?" asked Belphegor. "I keep it tied back in a single ponytail so I don't have to worry about it being uneven. It's simple. There's less hassle this way."

"But, Belphie… Don't you see?"

"See what?"

Belphegor tried to sound unaffected, uncaring, but, by this point, her hands had fallen away from Asmodeus' pigtails. Instead, they were tentatively patting her _own _hair in confusion.

When Asmodeus next spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "Belphie… It pains to me tell you this, but… Well. Kukuku~ Your hair _might _be tied back in a single ponytail, but it's also _tied more to the left than the right!_ Waaaay more, in fact! That's not a ponytail at all- it's a side tail!"

Belphegor gave a strange squeak at this. Her fingers curled into a fist round her hair in distress.

"Y-you mean I-I'm… I'm…" she stuttered. Her voice was fragmented and broken and she couldn't finish her sentence. The mere concept was too mind-breakingly horrific for poor Belphegor to process, let alone talk about. This was even worse than facing off against some eldritch abomination!

Belphegor wasn't particularly frightened of whisperers in the dark or shadows out of time. Belphegor had read Lovecraft and, honestly, she didn't understand all the fuss about Cthulu. If an evil monster too abhorrent to gaze upon could be defeated by being bumped over the head with a boat it wasn't really that impressive.

Having uneven hair, however, was something much, much worse!

Belphegor was so shocked she couldn't even speak.

It was lucky, then, that Asmodeus was there to verbalise her fears for her.

"Yes, big sis. I know it's a horrible affliction to deal with, but _you-_" Asmodeus stabbed a finger at Belphegor's shocked face, "-are _asymmetrical."_

It was true.

Belphegor had become exactly what she hated the most.

And it had been _Asmodeus _who told her.


	32. Odd one out

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #32: Odd one out

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ange~ Whatchu doin'?"<p>

"Playing a game."

"Ooh, I like games! What kind of game?"

"…Pokémon."

"Poké… mon…?" Mammon repeated, tilting her head to one side in confusion.

"You take young creatures from their natural habitats against their will, away from their families, and you force them to battle others of their kind until they collapse from exhaustion. You're praised for doing this," said Ange levelly. "It's senseless and strangely cathartic."

"…If you say so," said Mammon, after a short pause. "People are into some weird stuff, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Ange was sat on the floor, curled up in the space between where her bed met the wall. A stream of sunlight shone through the window, illuminating the screen of the strange, alien object she held in her hands. She was looking down at the device with concentration on her face; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Her red, straight-across bangs had even been clipped back so they didn't fall in her face.

Mammon- perched on the bed, peering over Ange's shoulder- giggled. Some people took life _waa~aaay_ too seriously. Different people gave out different 'auras', though. When Belphegor was being super-serious it was just annoying. When Ange did it, however, it was really cute! Especially as she was being so intense about a child's game- which was, as Mammon soon learnt, basically an extended version of rock paper scissors with pretty graphics and bad music.

"Ooh, I know!~" said Mammon suddenly, clapping her hands together. "Idea, idea! Pick me, Milady!~"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you name all your pok_é_mans after us, the Seven Stakes! It'll be just like real life! You get to boss us around in pixel-form-"

"I don't boss you around."

"-and we get to stab or burn or poison our enemies all to protect your honor!" Mammon continued blithely. "It'll be great!~ It'll make me feel like part of the action! Please, Ange~ Please, please, pleasee~ I've always wanted to be reborn as a dragon that can shoot fire from my face!~"

Ange paused.

That… was a rather _odd_ dream.

Then, she sighed.

"Well. I can't see what harm it would do."

* * *

><p>Within the next few hours all of the seven sisters had assembled themselves on Ange's bed (it was getting pretty cramped; two was already pushing it, and three was <em>definitely<em> a crowd. Seven was almost impossible, unless Belphegor didn't mind Asmodeus sitting on her lap and Satan was okay with Leviathan's elbow prodding her in the face), all staring at Ange as she progressed through her pixel-mash world to become 'the greatest trainer ever'.

In Ange's team she possessed a charizard called Mammon, a snorlax called Beelzebub, a vaporeon called Belphegor, a raichu called Asmodeus, a sandslash called Lucifer, a gyarados called Satan…

And a level six rattata called Leviathan.

"Fufufu~" Asmodeus giggled, watching as her raichu-self dispatched a lapras. "I'm so cute and multi-functional!~ I can shoot down water _AND_ flying types~ Oohh… Kukuku~" Asmodeus smiled sweetly, turning to look at Leviathan. "But I guess _some _of us on Ange's party aren't really pulling their weight."

Leviathan's cheeks turned light pink.

All of a sudden, Leviathan felt a great surge of sympathy for her unused rattata, left to rot inside a pixel-PC for all of eternity.

…Why was _she_ the one who was always left out?

U-uwahh! I-it just wasn't _fair!_


	33. A peculiarity in pink

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #33: A peculiarity in pink

* * *

><p>"…Mom. What is <em>that<em>?"

"It's a dress, of course. Please don't be foolish, Jessica."

"Duhh. I know what it _is_. I mean, what the hell is it doing here?"

"Don't speak in such an uncivilised tone!" Natsuhi scolded, scandalized. From the tone of her voice, one would've thought somebody had just dug up her grandmother's grave and was wearing her jawbone as a hat…

That is, until you learnt Natsuhi sounded scandalized about almost _everything_, from Jessica's poor grades to stray dust particles that dared to impede upon the Ushiromiya family honor. If such a macabre eventuality of headgear fashioned from dead relatives ever arose, Natsuhi would probably have collapsed.

Jessica, who knew this perfectly well, could only pout and fold her arms.

Geez.

Her mom was more highly-strung than a kite.

How was Jessica related to her again…?

"I'm sorry, mom," Jessica (grudgingly) apologized. "I just want to know what that… _thing-_" Jessica refused to call it a 'dress'. It hadn't earned the right to have such a title, "-is doing here."

The 'thing' in question was oh-so-neatly laid out on Jessica's bed. It was a pile of pink ruffles and puffed sleeves, ribbons and corsetry which- in Jessica's eyes- looked more like an instrument of deadly torture than a dress. It even came with a matching hat.

Wearing something like that would make Jessica's credibility go down at least fifty points- and how could Jessica threaten Battler with her brass knuckles when she was dressed up like a blancmange?

Even though Jessica was only ten tender years of age, she took her appearance very seriously. That is, she tried as hard as humanely possible not to look a pink, dessert-themed fashion platter, regardless of Natsuhi's wishes.

Urgh.

Just looking at the hideous _thing _was enough to give Jessica a headache.

Maybe migraines ran in the family?

"At the moment the dress- not 'thing', expensive dress- is sat on your bed," Natsuhi said. "However, soon you will be wearing it."

Jessica winced. She'd been afraid of that.

"B-but mom-"

Natsuhi's eyes narrowed.

"And when I say you will be wearing it, I mean you _will_ be wearing it. For too long now you've been allowed to attend the family conferences in those awful shorts and shirts- but no more! I have to make you look presentable. It's my job."

Jessica pouted. "Is this because you didn't have any dolls to play with as a kid and now you're taking it out on me?"

"_Ushiromiya Jessica!_ Watch your tongue!"

Jessica didn't want to push her luck any further. Judging by her mother's expression, one thing was clear. Jessica would be wearing that dress, whether it had to pulled over her cold, dead carcass.

And dying in such a hideous outfit would just be _embarrassing._

* * *

><p>"Whoa!~ I haven't seen everyone in ages!~" ten-year-old Ushiromiya Battler said cheerily, as he looked around his assembled cousins and relatives on the harbor.<p>

Battler was a little shaky and ill from the long boat journey but, miraculously, he'd managed to overcome his sickness at the sight of his family.

"George, I think you've gotten even taller!~" said Battler, voice filled with awe. "Watch out, though- 'cause one day I'll catch you up!"

George smiled, patting Battler on the head. "I've no doubt about that. Perhaps it can be your goal?"

"Yeah!~" Battler agreed, nodding. "And Shannon, you've gotten even prettier!"

Shannon flushed, looking down at her feet in embarrassment.

"And Maria's so cute," Battler continued, turning to his new baby cousin held in Rosa's arms. "And Jessica…"

Battler paused.

He looked confused.

And then…

He began to snigger.

"And it looks like Jessica's been taking fashion tips from cookery magazines! She looks like a wedding cake! Ihihi!~"

Jessica's left eye twitched.

She was going to make Ushiromiya Battler eat those words. She might have been a human wedding cake, but she still knew how to throw a punch.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Jessica's wearing the dress given to Erika :D Honestly, though… Would Jessica ever willingly wear something like that? XD


	34. Snow

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #34: Snow

* * *

><p>"Wow… It's so beautiful…"<p>

Cornelia could only stare in awe as, all around her, snowflakes drifted through the powder blue sky. Behind her the large, white building of Seventh District Repentance Enforcement Agency looked like a scene from a Christmas card. The windows were frosted with ice and snow was stacked up on the protruding windowsills in drifts.

Cornelia had never seen snow like that before. In fact, no- she'd never seen snow before in her whole life. It was even more breath-taking than she had assumed, despite the fact the snowflakes didn't look perfectly unique in star-like shapes as she had assumed. Instead, they were indeterminate shapes of cold mush.

Cornelia soon learnt the standard attire of an Eiserne Jungfrau member wasn't very good at keeping in the heat. She shivered, wrapping her arms round herself- but it wasn't enough to detract from the beauty of the scene.

Meanwhile, around the young third class priest, various members of Eiserne Jungfrau were laughing, talking, and throwing compacted balls at snow round as icy projectiles. The blonde-haired second class priest with the side tail was cursing bitterly whilst a mischievous looking redhead sniggered to herself. Apparently, she had just shoved a heap of snow down the back of the blonde girl's shirt.

Cornelia rolled her eyes at these antics. Honestly- some people were so childish! Were they not meant to be proud members of Eiserne Jungfrau? They should show some respect! Just because those two girls were second class priests of higher esteem than Cornelia, it didn't mean they had to the right to act so unprofessionally- even if the snow _was_ exciting!

And yet, even so…

Cornelia still wanted to join in with the gaggle of giggling girls kicking snow at each other and making botched angel shapes. It looked like fun…

But no; she was above all that!

What would Dlanor A. Knox, Cornelia's heroine, say about such behavior? Surely she would be-

"_**EEEEEEeeeeeek**_!"

And then a sudden burst of cold exploded down Cornelia's back.

C-cold! That was really cold…!

Cornelia wheeled round so quickly she very nearly fell over. Thankfully, she was able to regain her balance. That was a miracle for a clumsy girl like her, who could barely remain upright in her own office, let alone outside in the snow.

However, when Cornelia's eyes fell upon the snowball-throwing culprit (she could feel the icy water trickling, in rivulets, against her skin), she blinked.

She gasped.

She _stared._

Perhaps she was seeing things- but no, it was _true_. The person stood before her, unabashedly holding another compacted ball of snow in her bare fingers (wasn't that cold?) was, indisputably, Dlanor A. Knox herself. There was a strange, cat-like smile on her face.

Cornelia was so surprised she thought she might actually faint.

"I-I… I…" Cornelia stuttered. Why were words always irritatingly elusive when she needed them the most. Urgh. "I-I… U-um… Miss Dlanor, p-please allow me to speak! W-what are you doing?"

"I'm having FUN," said Dlanor simply. "I am, after all, just a KID."

"I-I see…"

"And I'm having fun… so I don't think I'll STOP," said Dlanor, compacting her second snowball together even tighter. "This is more fun than being INSIDE."

Cornelia winced. She didn't know what to do. Was she allowed to hit Dlanor back? Would that be treason? Could she get the death sentence? She'd heard about Dlanor's infamous 'DIE DIE DIE THE GREAT EQUALIZER IS THE DEATH' spiels, and she had no desire to be on the opposing end of it… b-but she didn't want to get pelted with snowballs either! Her lousy outfit didn't offer much protection against the snow! T-this wasn't fair! Cornelia had never been trained for this! Or was this a test? Was this…?

Cornelia wasn't sure at what point she became aware she was hyperventilating. Maybe it was when Dlanor said, her voice emotionless as always (though there might have been a hint of worry in there), "Are you alright, Miss Cornelia?"

Gertrude, who had been standing beside Dlanor for some time, sighed. Then, ever so gently, she bumped her fist against the top of Death Sentence Dlanor's head.

"Stop teasing her. You're making me feel bad."

"I'm sorry, Gertrude. I was just having some FUN."

"I don't like your idea of 'fun'. Now go and apologize."

"I am sorry, Gertrude."

"No, not to _me_."

Gertrude sighed.

Dlanor A. Knox might have been a well-respected witch hunter- but she really was a little kid, in almost every sense of the word. And young children plus snow _really _didn't mix.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I've wanted to write this for a while XP Gertrude's chastisement of Dlanor comes from the Umineko TIP 'Butterfly Kiss Episode 1.5', in which Dlanor sends Battler Valentine's chocolate and her note says '_If Gertrude sees this letter, she will force me to rewrite it ...how burdensome_.' From that TIP I kind of assume Gertrude is the sort of motherly figure who tries to keep Dlanor in line… which is kind of adorable XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	35. Achoo!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #35: Achoo!

* * *

><p>Cornelia, the (now very damp and soggy) third class priest, sniffed. She felt horrible; like a pile of wet clothes that had just been pulled out of the washing machine and then dumped on the cold, hard floor. Or maybe she felt more like a piece of cereal drifting about aimlessly in a bowl of milk.<p>

It was difficult to tell.

Whilst the snow was beautiful, having handfuls of said snow trickling down her back wasn't. If anything, it was very painful and rather uncomfortable.

The poor, frost-bitten girl shuddered, trying to ward off the cold through sheer willpower. She was a member of Eiserne Jungfrau and she would wear their (admittedly rather impractical) outfit with pride!

Pride, and a side order of icy humiliation.

She sniffed miserably, shifting about in her chair- a pathetic attempt to generate more heat. It didn't work. Cornelia tried to focus on her paperwork, but it was almost impossible.

She wanted to go home.

T-this was just a test, though, Cornelia tried to reason with herself. Dlanor had only thrown that snowball at her because it was a surprise test of… endurance, maybe? To see how much hardship she could suffer before she cracked under pressure? That must have been it! The great Dlanor A. Knox- _Death Sentence Dlanor_- did not do things pointlessly, and definitely not for her own amusement! That cat-like smile had been… a delusion on Cornelia's part, perhaps.

A delusion brought about by the cold.

It really was quite cold- in case Cornelia's mind hadn't registered that already.

Nevertheless, Cornelia would not fail this test! She would prove to Dlanor she could continue working under strenuous, uncomfortable conditions! Maybe this was standard protocol all priests went through? Maybe this was a test designed to cull the best members of Eiserne Jungfrau from the worst! Cornelia had only been working with Eiserne Jungfrau for a few months; it seemed only logical they would want to examine her resolve and commitment at some point.

That must have been it.

That was definitely it!

Cornelia would persevere with her work even if it killed her (and it very well might). She would show them just how serious she was about her profession! The snow could not stop her now!

With that happy thought in mind (which had successfully, if only for a few moments, managed to derail the constant stream of _I'm cold I'm cold I'm cold_ running through her brain_)_ Cornelia turned back to the documents she had been sorting-

When she felt something build up inside her.

Something colossal.

Something _immense._

Something that could raze fields and eradicate buildings and strike down legions upon legions of helpless, screaming bystanders; something that could alter the course of history and change the world and maybe, even, destroy it…!

I-it was building up, like a giant creature awaking from a centuries long sleep under the ocean. Cornelia could feel it stirring within her.

I-it was coming-!

I-it was going to destroy the world!

"_A-a-a…__Achoo__!"_

Or, alternatively, it was going to send the documents Cornelia oh-so-carefully sorted scattering to the floor.

Which was just as bad as the end of the world in Cornelia's eyes.

Cornelia spent the rest of the day with a running nose and a pounding headache, sneezing every single time she'd managed to convince herself she wasn't going to sneeze anymore.

It was okay, though.

It was just a test.

…

…

…It_ better _have been a test.


	36. Karmic retribution

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 36: Karmic retribution

* * *

><p>Gaap, resident portal demon and the 33rd highest ranking earl (although, technically, shouldn't that have been 'countess'?) of the underworld, was bored. For people who knew Gaap, that statement was a warning; a sign that they should vacate the area and flee from Her Mischievousness as soon as possible. For people who didn't know Gaap, well…<p>

Woe on them.

Cornelia was one such person who did not know Gaap. She was aware of Gaap's presence, in that she knew her personal possessions kept disappearing- but she did not know Gaap was the one who kept stealing them. Cornelia strongly suspected the 'Case of the Continuously Missing Socks' (though 'socks' was just one example; that noun could pretty much be substituted with any of Cornelia's other belongings) was not solely down to her own clumsiness, but she couldn't prove it. Sometimes, Cornelia was half-convinced she was going mad…

But that is a story for a different time.

Gaap enjoyed nothing more than playing jokes on clumsy people. This was because it was easy to fool said people into believing everything that went wrong was their own fault. Thus, when Gaap was bored, she naturally gravitated towards people like Cornelia, just for kicks. It was cruel, but… eh. Gaap was a demon; it was in her nature.

However, that one particular day, as Gaap opened up a portal in Cornelia's house to steal something else, she was met with an unfamiliar sight. Cornelia wasn't at the office, as she usually was when Gaap came to 'visit'. Instead, the young girl was fast asleep, buried under a pile of blankets and pillows. There was a bottle of empty cough medicine on the floor and a box of tissues. That, coupled with Cornelia's flushed face and slight sniffles, was enough for Gaap (with her amazing Miss Scarlet skills) to deduce that Cornelia was not feeling 100% okay.

The third class priest was sick.

How adorable!~

Gaap pondered, for a few seconds, whether she should steal any of Cornelia's possessions at all. It was a little unfair launching an attack on somebody who was ill…

But that brief notion of goodwill soon disappeared into the ether when Gaap laid her eyes on Cornelia's unguarded Eiserne Jungfrau uniform, folded up neatly on the floor.

* * *

><p>"You have nobody to blame but yourself," said Virgilia, surveying Gaap over the top of her tea cup. "I can hardly believe you would stoop so low- stealing a young girl's clothes whilst she's ill and can't fight back."<p>

"H-hey, t-that's a little harsh, Lia! I'm not a complete monster. It wasn't like I stripped her unconscious body or anything."

"No. You reserve that sort of treatment for me, don't you?"

"Hey, you're getting wayyy too touchy about this! That was only one time- and it was only for your shoes, and you really have yourself to blame because you're mean and- and- and…"

Here, Gaap paused. She could feel something build up in the back of her throat; a horrible, tickling sensation.

Then, roughly three seconds later-

"Achoo!"

She sneezed.

It was a loud, undignified sneeze; a sneeze of such power it made her blonde curls bounce.

It seemed, whilst Gaap had acquired Cornelia's Eiserne Jungfrau uniform, she had also added something else to her inventory. Something not quite so fabulous, which she didn't really want.

A cold.

Sniffling, Gaap reached forwards for the box of tissues on the table- only to find they were empty. H-hey, that wasn't fair-!

Meanwhile, a faint, graceful smile curved Virgilia's lips, as she watched Gaap sneeze and splutter.

"I suppose this is what they would call karmic retribution, isn't it, Gaap~"

"Oh, screw you."

* * *

><p>"Karmic retribution, eh, Lia?"<p>

"S-shut up…" the very sick, very fluey and very headache-y Virgilia muttered, rolling over in her bed and burying her flushed face against her pillow.

It seemed, even whilst running a temperature of 103 degrees, Gaap simply had to have the last laugh.


	37. Down with the sickness

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 37: Down with the sickness

* * *

><p>"This is terrible!" Beatrice cried, slumping against the white table. She had no energy to remain upright. Instead, she supported her head- which suddenly felt leaden- with her hand, the elbow resting against the table. "Everybody's ill!"<p>

"Not everybody," Lucifer reminded Beatrice. The oldest stake was also sat alongside the blonde witch, a comforting smile on her face as she tried to pat Beatrice's shoulder. "I'm still here, Milady. I would never let an inconvenience like sickness stop me from serving you!"

"Yeah, but teacher's ill… and Ronove. And all your other sisters," said Beatrice, pouting. "All the people who can cook have been taken out of commission!"

Lucifer flushed a little at this. Whilst she was loyal and hard-working, she couldn't deny she had a few faults. Being all fingers and thumbs in the kitchen was one of them. It shouldn't have been so difficult to slice up vegetables to make soup, especially when Lucifer could handle her red sword with incredible precision and grace. However, there was a big difference between murder and cooking.

With murder, you didn't need to worry nearly so much about the presentation.

"U-um, well… I-I could try and cook!" said Lucifer, putting her hand to her chest. "I-I mean, it can't be that difficult…"

Those, as Lucifer soon learnt, were famous last words.

Cooking hadn't seemed too taxing when Ronove had been there. He'd told Lucifer what to do and what not to do whilst she kneaded her cookie dough and rolled it out on the flour-sprinkled work surface and- in the end- she'd created something actually edible. However, Ronove was not there to help Lucifer this time. Instead, he was crippled with the same fever that had claimed all of Lucifer's younger sisters, Virgilia and Gaap (and, unbeknownst to the meta world inhabitants, half of the members of Eiserne Jungfrau).

Lucifer looked down at the… _sludge_… she'd created with obvious fear in her face. W-was it meant to be moving like that? Should miso soup be so thick in some places, and so wartery in others? It had seemed a good idea to add yoghurt at the time, just to thicken it up, but now it looked like something that had passed through the digestion tract of a cat!

M-maybe it tasted better than it looked…

But, somehow, Lucifer really doubted that- and she wasn't stupid enough to try.

Tentatively, with the air of one prodding at an unexploded bomb, Lucifer poked round at the swirling grey mess with the end a wooden spoon-

And then she squeaked, recoiling, as the… 'soup'… made a strange, gurgling sound.

W-was it alive? Had she somehow- unwittingly- created a new species? Or maybe her soup had started to thrive; building up its own eco-system! If she tried to pour it down the sink (would it even fit? The lumps of mushroom and turnip were pretty big), would it crawl back up from the sewers to smother her in her sleep?

W-what had she done?

This was more hideous than Frankenstein's monster by far…! Somehow, Lucifer felt as though she'd just kicked nature in the teeth by creating this… this… _hellish abomination._

Lucifer's hands gripped her apron-clad chest. She tried to calm her nerves. She was the cool older sister who didn't quail in the face of adversary. She had to think rationally. She could do this.

What could she do?

…

Suddenly, Lucifer's eyes lit up.

The solution was simple!

She didn't have to cook anything. Canned foods could save them! …Of course, Beelzebub- despite being constantly hungry- was incredibly picky about what food she ate, but whatever. It was canned food or a starvation.

…Lucifer wondered, however, whether this 'brilliant' combination of prunes and potato chips was really all that healthy- not just for people suffering from fevers of 104 degrees, but any people at all.

Would scurvy come first… or rickets?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Another continuation of the 'everybody got sick' thing XD I wouldn't put this in a standalone multichap fic though cause the parts are so short… XD I think there's one more part to this and then it's over.  
>I haven't updated for two days ;A; All of a sudden I've been very, very busy XD I apologize.<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	38. Infected

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #38: Infected

* * *

><p>Lambdadelta was curled up in her bed. She wasn't wearing her typical witch's garb of pink dress and matching hat and neither did she have small pieces of candy and ribbons laced through her hair. Instead, she was wearing an over-sized shirt and an old pair of cycling shorts. Her hair was a mess; the bangs clipped back, and the rest tied into two stubby twin tails. It was difficult to believe this mundane, sickly-looking invalid was the great Lady Lambdadelta at all.<p>

The bed sheets were pooled round Lambdadelta's shivering form, whilst she clutched a pink and white polka-dot pillow tightly to her chest. All around her were crumpled up tissues, and there was an empty bowl of chicken soup lying on the floor.

Lambdadelta sniffled miserably. It seemed even the witch of certainty was susceptible to colds.

Urgh- it was just wasn't _fair! _Her throat felt like it was on fire, her head hurt, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Her eyelids were leaden, and they kept trying to force themselves closed although Lambdadelta wrestled helplessly against the fatigue. She shouldn't be going to sleep; she was a young, youthful, vibrant, pretty young girl- not an old woman!

…Well, technically, she was roughly one thousand years old (Lambda didn't know for sure; keeping track of the time was, quite frankly, depressing and totally not-fun), but who cared about the little details, anyway?

"Bern…?" Lambda croaked.

Bernkastel did not answer. The Witch of Miracles was sat on the floor, her back resting against the bed. Her knees were drawn up under her chin, cat tail curled round her body, whilst she balanced an open book about… astrophysics, or something totally boring and not as interesting as Lambdadelta, against her thighs.

Bernkastel really was like a cat, Lambdadelta pondered. Whilst Bern tried to appear aloof and uppity, the proud witch had chosen to snuggle up on the floor rather than on a chair. Bern's body was folded together like a collapsible telescope, whilst she had surrounded herself with some stolen pillows and sheets from Lambda's bed. Bern's tail would twitch every once in a while. Perhaps it was a reaction to what she was reading- though her facial expression never changed.

Lambdadelta couldn't help but smile, even despite her exhausted and distinctly less-than-fabulous state.

Bernkastel really was _adorable._

"Bern…?" Lambda whined again, deliberately trying to sound as sick as possible. It wasn't difficult- she honestly felt terrible. Kind of like her lungs were going to explode and leap out of her mouth… Which might have been quite interesting, actually.

If it happened to somebody else.

Body horror like that would put a total downer on the rest of Lambdadelta's day.

"Bernnnnn~" Lambda tried again. "I'm dyiinggg."

It seemed the third time was, indeed, the charm. Bernkastel sighed, tearing her eyes away from her 'oh-so-riverting' book.

"If you're going to die, would you please do it quietly?" Bernkastel asked. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"If you wanted to concentrate why are you still sat with little old me, hmnnn?~ You could've left agessss ago."

Bernkastel blinked up at Lambdadelta slowly. Then- after a short pause- she gracefully pulled herself to her feet.

"Yes. That is quite a good idea. Thank you for the suggestion. I suppose you do have a few good ideas floating around in your head after all. I should be going now-"

"No, Bern!" Lambda cried.

There was a horrible headache battering the inside of Lambdadelta's head. Her skull was beginning to feel like a snow globe. A snow globe full of pointy rocks and pain, as opposed to actual fake snow. However, despite this discomfort, and despite the incredibly overwhelming desire Lambda felt to just let stupid Bernkastel leave so she could wallow in her sea of snotty tissues and high temperatures, Lambdadelta found she simply couldn't let Bern go.

Not that easily.

As the Witch of Certainty, she wouldn't allow it!

Reaching forwards- whimpering slightly at the effort it took- Lambdadelta managed to grab hold of Bernkastel's tail.

"Yay!~ Victory is mine, eheheheh!~"

"What do you want?" asked Bernkastel, turning to face Lambdadelta. Her expression was deadpan. "You were implying I should leave."

Lambdadelta pulled a face. "I never implied that. I was merely making an observation."

"You keep sneezing and sniffling. I don't want to catch whatever illness you've got," said Bernkastel. "I have enough trouble trying to deflect your waves of crippling stupidity; I don't want your sickness on top of that."

"Aww~ You don't mean that really though."

Even though Bern could be so cold and mean sometimes, she could be kind of sort of almost sweet; like when, sighing, she'd tucked Lambda up in her bed… Or when she'd run her hands through Lambda's hair when she'd thought Lambda was asleep in some feverish dream. But Lambda hadn't been sleeping, oh no. It had, in fact, been a cunning ruse! Kikikiki…

Moving quickly- far more quickly than she thought she could've moved, given the burning in her throat and the pain in her head- Lambda pulled herself (albeit shakily) into a sitting position. Then, still with the same speed, Lambda reached forwards-

And pressed her lips against Bernkastel's.

Lambdadelta wasn't sure whether Bern was surprised or not. Bernkastel didn't respond- but, then again, she rarely did. Her tail might have twitched a few times, though…

Even when Lambda's lips left Bern's she still didn't have the strength (or any real desire) to pull herself away. Instead, she let her nose bump against Bern's.

"Hehe~" Lambda giggled. "Gotcha."

Bernkastel didn't say anything. However, the slight softening eyes of her emotionless eyes spoke volumes. It was all Lambdadelta needed.

"You couldn't defend yourself from that from my amazing surprise attack, huh? Huhhh?~" Lambda teased. "The great Bern is fallible, too!~ With my cute-ness and high temperature, I could take over the world!"

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," said Bern. She shook her head- though her eyes were still softer than usual. "You idiot."

Lambda only smiled, sticking out her tongue.

"Am I infected now, too?" asked Bernkastel.

"Yep yep!"

"…Urgh. What a pain."

"Hey, look on the bright side~ You've always gotta look on the bright side of life!~" said Lambdadelta cheerfully.

"Don't quote that inane song at me, please."

"Hey, I'm an invalid. I should be allowed to do what I want."

"Of course. How silly of me."

During that conversation the blonde witch had gently pulled Bernkastel down onto the bed. Within a matter of moments Bernkastel had been submerged in Lambda's nice, warm, cozy nest of pillows and blankets… and snotty tissues- but they weren't really adding to the ambience of the scene, so Lambda tried to ignore them.

"You can't go and communicate with the outside public now, Bernnn~ You'll make 'em all ill. So you'll just have to stay with me~~~ Ehehehe~"

"You're putting me under quarantine?"

"That's right!"

Bernkastel didn't attempt to resist as Lambdadelta pulled her into a warm, feverish embrace. The two witches lay curled up together in a pool of duvets, Bernkastel's tail twitching slightly, her hair fanning out across the pillow.

It was… nice.

…Maybe being infected wasn't so bad after all.


	39. Ahead of the times

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 39: Ahead of the times

* * *

><p>"Wow!~ It's snowing, nihi!~" cried Chiester 410 excitedly.<p>

"Y-yes. It's very beautiful," Chiester 45 agreed, a small smile on her face.

410 was running around in the swirl of smushy white flakes with her arms spread wide, just like the wings of an airplane. The smile on her face, meanwhile, was even wider; practically stretching from ear to ear. It was perhaps one of the few occasions of real life facial expressions where the emoticon ':D' could properly surmise the size of her smile.

Giggling to herself, the heels of 410's boots left patterns in all the soft, squishy snow that had piled up around her. Her ears twitched, hair fluttering in the breeze. Ice crystals soon began to make themselves at home in her turquoise hair and on the tips of her ears; shimmering under the dull sunshine like precious stones.

"Hey, I have an omega awesome idea!" 410 declared, turning on the spot and stabbing a finger at her sister in an overly-dramatic fashion. "Let's make snow bunnies!"

"E-eh? I-is it okay too goof off like this? D-do you think big sister will punish us?"

"Nahh~ She won't mind, nihi~ We're just a couple of young girls having a bit of funnn!"

45 had to admit, despite her initial reservations, the snow did look like a lot of fun. But, her ears… She didn't want to get them wet. They were instrumental in keeping her balance, not to mention processing information and scouring the land for data discrepancies and certain targets. They were her livelihood, and if they became clogged with snow…

W-well, she was resourceful, wasn't she? Chiester 45 knew she could find a way around it…

And find a way she did.

She'd just had an excellent idea!

"O-okay, wait here, sis!" said 45, giving her sister a quick salute, light pink pigtails bouncing. "I-I'll be right back!"

* * *

><p>When Chiester 45 finally returned, 410 was surprised to note the… slight change her sister had made to her standard outfit. The stripper-rific swimming costumemarching band ensemble was still in place, as were her gloves, boots and arm band. However, on her ears…

Well…

"Sis. What are those socks for?"

"Protection from the snow!" said 45 proudly, a rare smile on her face. "W-would you like to try a pair on, too?"

"…No thanks. Nihi~"

* * *

><p>"Augh! It's so cold! L-like all my senses are on firreeeee- which doesn't even make any sense 'cause it's cold!"<p>

Chiester 45 sighed.

She knew ear socks were the way of the future.


	40. Asunerella

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #40: Asunerella

* * *

><p>"Urgh! It's not <em><strong>fair<strong>_!"

"What's not fair?" asked Manon.

The brown-haired servant of the Ushiromiya house put her washcloth down and turned to look at the collapsed form of Asune. Asune was, quite against her role of being a hard-working maid (_pfft_, it wasn't like she was fooling anybody), slumped against the table in the middle of the kitchen, her head cradled in her hands.

"George and Yasu, obviously!" said Asune, pouting. "Whenever I see them they're always, like, looking into each other's eyes and being all mushy and sentimental… And she's always _giggling _and _blushing_. They might as well be surrounded with love hearts- it's _soooo _obvious!"

"Good for them," said Manon absently, turning back to the washing up.

Asune pouted. "What? What do you mean, '_good for them?_'"

"Well, if Yasu- a common maid- gets married to an Ushiromiya like George, that'll totally screw around with everybody's perception of us as 'furniture'… Fufufu~ They'll have to reconsider. Oh my gosh, I can't wait to see the look on Miss Eva's face when she finds out. That'll be the _**best**_! Hahahaha!"

"…You know what? You're really mean."

"And you sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend, and that's kind of funny, because you've never been anybody's girlfriend before in your whole life- least of all George's," Manon shot back. "Now do some work."

Asune didn't twitch; not even when Manon threw the washcloth at her head. Instead, she only frowned.

"The wind will change and your face will stay like that," Manon said. It was a phrase she'd heard Kumasawa use countless of times before, and it seemed fitting. "Then nobody will ever want to fall in love with you."

"T-that's not true!"

Manon smirked.

Kukuku~ Baiting silly girls was so much funnn~ Why did people take stuff like that so seriously, anyway? Manon wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of 'love', but the perfect love most girls dreamed of belonged in stupid fairytales. Manon was too much of a realist to believe in happy endings.

"It's just not fair!" Asune suddenly exploded.

"The fact that you're making me do all the work?" asked Manon innocently. "Yeah, that's not fair."

"No! Not that! Who cares about you, anyway?"

"I care about me."

"Shut uuup!" Asune whined. "I mean, why does a clumsy maid like **Yasu** get to go out with George when I don't have anybody at all? It's not fair!"

Manon raised a brow. "You like Master George? I didn't think dull, chubby, guys who got pushed around by their mothers were your type, Asune."

"I don't have a crush on George... B-but I just wanna get swept off my feet by somebody! I wanna feel my heart pounding in my chest just once! I want somebody to love me like George loves Shannon! And... Ehehe..." She giggled, coyly twirling one twin tail round her finger. "It doesn't hurt that George is rich, I guess..."

"…Right. And you call me a horrible person."

"It's just like the story of _Cinderella_!" Asune continued, happily oblivious to Manon's deadpan commentary. "I'm the poor, lonely, overworked maid who sits by the hearth and George is like the Prince! He'll take me away from Rokkenjima on a white horse and I'll live happily ever after!"

"Yeah, it's just like _Cinderella_," said Manon. "If Cinderella was obsessed with money and Prince Charming was a fat kid who was bullied by his mother."

"Details, details," said Asune. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Hmph. Not like it matters. He had to choose Yasu, didn't he? Why can't _**I**_ have a happy fairytale ending? This is totally like what would happen in _Cinderella _if the prince married the dragon!"

"There are no dragons in _Cinderella_."

"Well, whatever! This is a travesty! I want my fairytale and I want it now!" Asune stamped a foot on the floor.

Then, all of a sudden…

An idea came to Asune.

"Hey, Manonnnn~"

"Yes? What is it? …Asked with a due sense of trepidation and dread."

"Do you think, if you hit me over the head with a frying pan, George would believe I'm a victim of abuse?"

"…And why do you want people to think you're abused?"

"'Cause, if I have all horrible injuries and stuff, then- morally- Geroge _**has **_to choose me over Yasu!"

Manon couldn't help but frown at that 'incredible' logic.

Of course, Asune's plan fell down when one realized Asune's plan wasn't 'moral' in the slightest.

"…Asune. As much as I would love to hit you over the head with a frying pan, I will _not_ do it to help you with your love life. Besides, we earn small fortunes working for the Ushiromiya family. We don't need any more money. And you're hardly a weak-willed, shy, soft wallflower either. Nobody will believe you'd just stand there whilst somebody hit you with a frying pan."

"Your point being…?"

"If you 'love' Master George- or, sorry, his money- so much, go write a depressing poem about it like everybody else."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Yay it's the maids of purgatory XD  
>Their timeline confuses me though. I think the four oldest maids left the island before Kanon arrived, didn't they? But I'm sure the second visual novel shows Kanon knows about Ruon, who's Lucifer's counterpart… : Maybe the older maids return to the island on busy occasions to help out -shrug-

**~renahhchen xoxo**

**21/12/2011 update; **changed it a little to make Asune more IC.**  
><strong>


	41. Heads is heads

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 41: Heads is heads

* * *

><p>"Man, she's <em>so<em> hot."

"I know! I mean, look at her body!"

"Even her _back _looks sexy!"

"Haha! Yeah- you can't say that about many girls."

"I dunno; the other maids she works with are kind of pretty, too."

"But not as pretty as_ her._"

"Mm. I know. I like it when she ties her hair up!"

"I like it when she gets this sleepy look in her eyes sometimes. It almost makes me feel that she _won't _stab me if I take a step towards her."

"I like it when her eyes shine when she smiles…"

"Pfft. What are you talking about? She _**never**_ smiles."

"And even if she did I bet she wouldn't waste those smiles on _you_."

"I know, I know, but I kind of imagine, if she did smile, her eyes would light up…"

"Jeez, how lame."

"Tell me about it."

"I can't help it! I-in fact…"

One of the teenage boys who had been staring rapturously at Sanon's back from across the classroom finally grew tired of staring. He would take matters into his own hands! Slamming a fist against the table, he stood up and drew a coin from his pocket.

"If this lands on heads then I'm going to go talk to her and tell her how I feel," said the boy, speaking so quietly none but his friends could hear him. After all, he didn't want Sanon to overhear his confession before he had a chance to make it perfect.

"Whoa! Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah. I mean, she might be hot, but she's kind of_ scary_."

"She might claw your face off or somethin'."

"I kind of like a bad girl, though! Eheheh…"

"Shut up, you guys," said the boy, glaring at his 'friends'. "I really like Sanon, and I don't care about the rumors around her. I want to tell her."

And with that he flipped the coin.

It arced through the air, the sides shimmering under the lights of the classroom-

Before it plummeted back down to earth, onto the table.

_Clink._

The three boys crowded about the coin, looking at down at the result that was to determine one boy's life. It was almost like a scene from a movie…

Only with less dramatic Latin choruses and more dull, boring reality, or course.

The result was clear.

Heads.

It was heads.

"Haha!" sniggered the first boy. "Looks like it's your lucky day, Casanova. You get to go confess to the luck lady!"

"Maybe you should take some sort of shield with you, though, just in case."

"Or you could shout your confession across the classroom. She can't break your ribs in front of so many witnesses!"

"Knowing Sanon, I'm sure she could. Did you hear what she did to Okamura?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember that… Geez, that was horrible!"

"Hahaha! …Oh- but don't worry, dude; we'll be there to help you-"

"What's left of you."

"-after Sanon has_ horribly,_ humiliatingly rejected you in front of everybody in the whole class."

"And maybe torn off a few of your limbs as well."

At these words our lovelorn hero's face turned pale. He looked between his smirking friends, to the coin on the table, to Sanon's back. It all to speak of his future. A future in the hospital.

The curly-haired girl was slumped forwards, head propped up by a hand, reading. Although he couldn't see her face, he was sure there was a look of concentration upon it. The children from the Fukuin House were always incredibly studious- but Sanon's bad temper equalled her good grades; perhaps even surpassed it. What would she do if he interrupted her during her reading?

…Kill him probably.

The boy gulped. All of a sudden, his bravado was gone.

"W-well, maybe I shouldn't be so hasty," said the boy sheepishly, looking down at the desk. "I-I mean, I should wait for the right moment to tell her… It can't be in a classroom! Maybe there should be music, and candles… I've got to create the right mood! A-a-and… it's not like I'm afraid! I will tell her, definitely… um, maybe. But not at the moment! I-I… I'm really hungry! You shouldn't confess on an empty stomach. That's right- I'm too hungry to confess!"

The other two boys shared a smirk before they looked back at their friend with some kind of compassion on their faces.

"Hey, it's okay. We understand."

"Yeah. If you're hyperventilating this much over a _coin toss_ then I don't think you should be talking to Sanon at all. You might forget how to breathe."

"At least that way_ she_ wouldn't be able to murder you; you'll have done it yourself."

"Death by stupidity."

"Or death by love, but I like your title more."

"Yeah. So true! Haha!" The boy's friend smiled. "Now, about that coin toss… How about you do a best out of three?"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Sanon sighed as she leafed through her book on biological molecules.<p>

Sometimes she wished somebody would come and talk to her.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Sanon being Satan's human form, of course :3 I kind of imagine she's the kind of girl who would be popular with the guys, but they'd all be too afraid of her to actually do anything XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	42. Pure evil

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #42: Pure evil

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," Beatrice sighed, resting her head against the table top. Even though she was the 'Golden Witch', at that moment she sounded more like a whiney child than anything else.<p>

"I know what you mean," said Gaap, sighing. With those words, the portal demon let her own head of blonde curls fall against the table beside Beatrice's with a _thump._

"There's nothing to doooo!" Beatrice whined.

"Lia won't even let me try on her hat!" Gaap wailed.

"Oh, that really is too much," said Beatrice sympathetically. She would have patted Gaap on the shoulder, but she felt so lethargic she could hardly bring herself to move. "Teacher's a horrible, selfish woman, isn't she?"

"She is, she is!" Gaap agreed. "It's nice to know you finally understand that, behind her good looks and small smiles, Lia is pure _evviillll_."

"Evvillllll," Beatrice echoed.

"Evil in a long dress with a stupid hat!"

"Oooh, now that's the worst kind of evil. That's like the evil that knows it's evil but tries to pretend it isn't."

"Tell me about it!"

"Um..." Virgilia frowned. "I can hear every single word you're saying. I've been sat beside you for the past half hour."

Gap didn't respond. Instead, she just muttered '_eviiillll_' to herself again, burying her head in her arms.

Virgilia sighed. Then, gently, she gave Gaap a light prod in the back of the neck. "Don't speak in such a disrespectful way to your elders. It's rude."

Gaap wailed in surprise when Virgilia's fingers brushed her neck, as though she'd been stabbed in the stomach with a bread knife. She shouted something, though Virgilia wasn't sure what. Gaap probably didn't know, either; but it sounded a little like all the vowels in the English alphabet run together- almost like 'AEEIOOUUUU!'.

Gaap's response to Virgilia's light prod was completely out of proportion. It was a little like the time Gaap had broken a fingernail and, thus, had a melodramatic, tear-filled breakdown about how she was 'unfashionable' and 'completely un-hot' (if it was possible to be such a thing; wouldn't that, logically, make you 'cold'?) for an hour.

Virgilia was fairly used to Gaap's over the top nature, but that loud scream startled her. Virgilia drew her hands away quickly, holding them to her chest…

But her troubles did not end there.

Virgilia fell back against her chair; _thwump. _But the chair wasn't all that stable. It hadn't been built to withstand the weight of a fully grown woman slamming her entire mass against it in one nanosecond.

The chair tipped backwards.

For a few horrible seconds, time seemed to freeze. Virgilia saw her life flashing before her eyes.

Then-

Well, the outcome of this unfortunate turn of events was only to be expected, really. Anybody could have seen it coming.

_**Crash!**_

Virgilia let out a yelp of pain as her shoulder caught against the floor. She landed gracelessly; a pile of tangled limbs and long hair and even longer skirts, all caught up round her legs. Virgilia's hat had fallen off. It fluttered elegantly to the ground mere seconds after Virgilia did. It seemed to be mocking her with its grace.

"…O-ow..."

Beatrice and Gaap lifted their heads from the table slowly. This was the most interesting thing that had happened all day!

Then- quick as a shot- Gaap darted forwards. With the speed of a very speedy object being hurtled through the air Gaap snatched up Virgilia's hat from the floor.

"RESULT!~ Another victory for the good guys!"

Meanwhile, Beatrice had begun to laugh.

It was nice to know, thought Virgilia darkly, that she could always count on Beatrice and Gaap in her times of need.

Oh, what a highbrow sense of humour they had.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Thank you for your suggestions ^_^; It might take me a while to actually write them (I have so many ideas already, and so many oneshots I've finished but not posted) but I will have a go at a few of them at some point, so you can keep suggesting things ^_^

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	43. Mousetrap

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #43: Mousetrap

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful sunny day outside; so lovely and warm the trees seemed to sigh in happiness as a light breeze ran through their leaves. Everything the sunlight touched turned golden, from the trembling blades off grass to the surface of small lakes and ponds.<p>

And what was our favourite the third class priest, Cornelia, doing on this gorgeous day?

You have three guesses, and two don't count.

She was sat inside her swelteringly hot office and doing paperwork, of course!

The sunlight was a warm, pleasant caress outside. However,_ inside_, it felt more like a humid punch in the face. Some of the other priests had taken the day off work with feigned illnesses so they could go relax in the sun instead of being burned to a crisp, but Cornelia wasn't like that. She was strong! She was resolute! She…

S-she was _mellttingggg._

It was getting difficult to concentrate. Her head swimming with jumbled, feverish thoughts, Cornelia reached forwards to take one of the many pieces of paper from her desk…

But her hand eye coordination (which had always been less-than-stellar) was off. The piece of paper slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the floor, landing under her desk.

_Urgh._

_Now I've got to move- and I feel all disgusting and hot and spongy…_

Sighing, wiping sticky strands of hair out of her eyes, Cornelia bent down to retrieve her lost paper…

_Crunch!_

"…O-ow!"

But she didn't expect to find a mousetrap under her desk, too.

Falling backwards against the floor, landing rather ungracefully on her rear, Cornelia held her poor, abused fingers up for inspection. Two of her fingers on her right hand were crushed up underneath the mousetrap, and the tips of them were beginning to turn red from lack of blood.

_Why do these things always happen to me? It's like somebody up there hates me…_

Though the poor third class priest tried and tried, she could not free her fingers from the trap. All the while she felt herself becoming more light-headed and delirious due to the heat, though the intense pain in her fingers managed to keep her alert. At least every cloud had a silver lining…?

Deciding it was a lost cause (as so many things in her life were), Cornelia got to her feet- shaking slightly as she did so- and left her office, trying to hide her mouse-trapped fingers behind her back. I-It was really embarrassing that she had to ask somebody for help, but she mean everybody could see her latest humiliation!

Who could she ask for help?

Gertrude.

She'd talk to Gertrude.

Although the blonde woman seemed a little scary at times, she had the second highest position in all of Eiserne Jungfrau. Dlanor was far too important to hear about such a minor incident (and Cornelia would have died of shame if she saw), but Gertrude could know, and she could probably help. There had always been a motherly air around her.

It was either ask Gertrude, or spend the rest of her life with a mousetrap on her fingers. Neither were very appealing, but there was only one clear course of action Cornelia could take.

And that was how Cornelia found herself sat in Gertrude's office, almost dying of heat with her fingers caught in a mousetrap.

Cornelia would have liked to say that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but it wasn't- not by a long shot- and Cornelia had always been taught not to lie. This wouldn't even make it on the top one hundred list of the 'Most Dreadful/Embarrassing/Dreadfully Embarrassing Things That Have Ever Happened to Cornelia'.

And that was nothing short of depressing.

"Let it be known that you should be more careful," said Gertrude gently, as she oh-so-carefully tried to prise the mousetrap off Cornelia's fingers without causing anymore damage.

Cornelia winced, but she tried to hide the expression of weakness. "Y-yes, Miss Gert- o-ow…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Cornelia tried to blink away her tears. "L-let it be known that I'm fine! B-but, Miss Gertrude… Please allow me to speak…"

"Yes?"

"Why was there a mousetrap under my desk? Let it be known that I didn't put it there."

"Hmn…" Gertrude paused. It looked as though she were deep in thought, though she was still trying to take the mousetrap from Cornelia's fingers. "Recently it was noted that there were mice in some of the offices here, and the mousetraps were my attempt to deal with the problem quietly, without Miss Dlanor realizing."

"Please allow me to speak… Why can't Miss Dlanor know?"

"Because she doesn't like mice."

"Hm?" Cornelia blinked in confusion. She hoped it didn't sound too impertinent, but she really had to ask; "Is Miss Dlanor… afraid of them?"

The idea of Death Sentence Dlanor being _afraid_ of anything- least of all mice- was completely ridiculous, and just a little insulting to the first class priest who had felled so many witches. However, Cornelia was curious, and this conversation was helping her to forget about the pain in her fingers.

"I am not sure if she's 'afraid' of them, per say…" said Gertrude. "But whenever Miss Dlanor sees a mouse she acts in a very bizarre manner… Perhaps it is not erroneous to say she is 'afraid' of them after all, but her response to mice varies greatly from an adult's who might share the same phobia. Then again…" Gertrude smiled fondly. "She is only a child. She's not completely infallible, you know."

Cornelia's eyes widened. W-wasn't it heresy to say something like that? Dlanor A. Knox was unbeatable, surely...!

But as Cornelia pondered, she failed to notice Gertrude had- finally- managed to pull the mousetrap from her poor fingers. At least, not until she realized the horrible pain of her fingers being mangled had eased up slightly.

"There. You should be fine now," said Gertrude, smiling her soft, motherly smile. "Let it be known that you should not inform Dlanor of the mouse problem until it's under control."

"I-I promise I won't!"

It wasn't like Cornelia would ever willingly try to talk to Dlanor anyway. Cornelia knew her face would go bright red and she'd be unable to say anything. Cornelia's worries were far too petty to concern Dlanor about!

"Oh, and Miss Cornelia…" said Gertrude, just as Cornelia's fingers fell upon the door handle. "Please do not push yourself too much. You work hard enough as it is- and if you feel ill because of the harsh weather, you should go home. If you keep trying to work whilst you feel sick, you'll only become sicker, and you'll have to take more days off work later. I'm worried about your health."

Cornelia felt tears of gratitude well up in her eyes.

Gertrude really _was_ too kind.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Poor Cornelia XD If something goes wrong, it always goes wrong around her XD This is kind of my response to thefanofgame's prompt about Dlanor being afraid of mice… But it didn't actually feature Dlanor at all… XD I might do another short with the same prompt in a while, that actually /does/ have Dlanor in it XP

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	44. Beatrice over flowers

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #44: Beatrice Over Flowers

* * *

><p><em>He loves me…<em>

_He loves me not._

_He loves me…_

_He loves me not._

_He loves me…_

Beatrice was seated in her white chair, as per usual, holding a rose between her fingers- which was perhaps not so usual. Beatrice had to hold the stem of the rose with great care, for she didn't want to prick her fingers.

Beatrice didn't want to be like that hapless princess from that fairytale… but _she_ had pricked her finger on a spinning wheel, right? This was only a rose, so Beatrice didn't have to worry about falling into an enchanted sleep for one hundred years.

One hundred years was like a drop in the ocean to an endless witch like Beatrice.

Even so, she still didn't want to hurt herself. Beatrice wasn't particularly masochistic.

Beatrice was slowly, methodically, pulling the petals off the rose, scattering them to the floor. All the while, she ran a chant through her head. It alternated over and over again, as the petals on the rose became fewer and fewer.

_He loves me not._

_He loves me._

_He loves me not._

_He loves me._

_He…_

Beatrice froze, her pale fingers reaching the final petal of the rose. She hardly wanted to pull it. Her eyes widened slightly with worry. She bit her lower lip. I-it wasn't going to end like this, right? T-that stupid flower couldn't dictate her future! It was only a _rose_- it didn't know anything!

U-urgh… Just looking at it, with a single petal remaining… it was almost as if it was mocking her! But it didn't have any right to; not when the once-proud flower looked so pathetic, with only _one _petal left.

She was the Golden Witch, Beatrice! She _refused_ to let an ugly, almost petal-less flower tell her what to do! It had no power over her!

Beatrice paused.

Then… she smirked.

She would not pull out that petal. She didn't have to. She'd grown bored of this childish game, that was all; she wasn't upset, and she certainly wasn't scared.

She threw the rose aside.

This way, she would never have to say it.

Maybe then it would never come true.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Maybe this is more bittersweet than actual comedy… Ehehe ^_^; But don't worry, Beato- stubborn thickheaded-ness will get you through anything!~ ^_^;;  
>This is set prior to the main events in Umineko, as all these one shots are… So this might be a bit of a spoiler. Ehehe… XD I guess it could be set prior or during the arcs of the game, though, so it doesn't make much of a difference.<br>Updated twice in a row cuz I didn't update yesterday, yeyyy.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	45. Angey Angey bozu

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #45: Angey Angey bozu

* * *

><p>"There's going to be a storm tomorrow."<p>

"Huh?" 'huh'd Battler, turning about in surprise.

His little sister stood framed in the doorway, dressed in her pink pajamas with her red hair tied up in two cute, stubby pigtails. She wore an unusually serious expression on her face. It didn't seem to suit a six year old girl. The black backdrop- it was nearing midnight, the house was dark and Ange hadn't turned the upstairs lights on- was a little disturbing, too; especially when coupled with Ange's narrowed eyes.

Battler had been in the middle of packing for the upcoming family conference. It was his first in six years, so he was a little… n-not nervous, because he was a strong, brave man who didn't get nervous, but… he was still… apprehensive.

Yes, that was it! _Apprehensive._

What would he say to his relatives? Surely they'd understand why he'd been gone so long, but so many things could change in the span of six years. It was disconcerting…

A-and Battler hadn't even got started on the boat yet.

The mere thought of the 'boat' was enough to make Battler feel ill even though his feet were still firmly on dry land! W-what would he do if he fell? It was going to keep him up all night, sick with worry (n-no, _not worry_, he wasn't worried, not at all, not even if he fell… and sank… and drowned… in the dark…

O-oh God).

That was why Battler had waited until the last minute to pack all his clothes. Maybe, if he pushed the impending visit from his mind, it wouldn't happen.

He couldn't deny he was happy at the prospect of seeing his relatives again, though. Especially Jessica and George… and Maria too. Wouldn't she be a big girl by now? The last time he'd seen her she'd been tiny; almost the size of a bag of flour.

It was too bad Ange couldn't come, too. She'd come down with the flu and, as a result, had to stay at home. Battler felt sorry for his poor sister. She always seemed to get sick.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Battler, trying to act the 'responsible adult' (something that surely would have made Jessica laugh). "Aren't you meant to be in your room, Ange? I don't want to catch your icky illness too!" Battler smiled. "Look, I'll make you some hot chocolate and you can go back to bed, 'kay?"

"No."

Battler's smile faltered. "What?"

"No. I won't go to bed," said Ange, her voice unusually stern for such a young girl. A young girl with pink pajamas and pigtails, no less.

"Ange, what's wrong?" asked Battler. It was unusual that Ange would ignore him. "You need to get some sleep so you can recover! If you don't sleep you won't get to be big and strong like me!"

"I-I can't go to sleep!" Ange said, her voice almost a shout (but not loud enough to wake Kyrie and Rudolf), as she clenched her hands into tiny fists. "Not until big brother promises… N-not until…" Ange's voice faltered. She looked down at her toes. "N-not until you promise you'll come back."

…All of a sudden, Battler's heart melted.

The look on Ange's face was completely _adorable_.

Was Ange really so worried she couldn't get any sleep? Maybe, if Ange had been going to Rokkenjima as well, she wouldn't have been so scared. That way, she could protect her 'stupid big brother'- as Rudolf had trained Ange to call him- from the boat and the bad weather.

She couldn't help if she was at home.

But Battler would come back. He definitely would. He'd brave anything for his little sister.

"Hey, it's okay," said Battler, smiling softly. Leaving his open suitcase behind, Battler walked forwards and pulled his little sister into a tight hug. "Don't worry, silly Angey~ I would never, ever leave you- not if I know I have a really cute little sister waiting for me back home!"

"B-but there's a storm… The weather forecast said so."

"I'm _waayyy _too strong for a stupid storm. Wind and rain? Ha! They don't frighten me," said Battler. His voice was so filled with bravado one would've thought he was going to slay a dragon, not visit his relatives (then again, Aunt Eva was quite vicious at times).

Truth be told, Battler would have preferred fighting a dragon to riding in that rickety old boat- especially if there was a storm. At least being burnt to death was somewhat quicker than drowning in the cold, dark, endless sea where nobody could reach you and you couldn't even scream…

Battler shuddered.

Aahh, that was no good! Useless, it was all useless! He had to stay strong for Ange!

"I'll definitely come back; definitely, definitely. You have your big brother's word."

Then- moving quickly- Battler picked his little sister up as easily as if she were a grapefruit. He swung her round and round in his arms without even breaking sweat- and, as he did so, he began to laugh.

Soon, Ange was giggling, too.

It was almost as if she'd never been upset or scared at all.

"See? Look how strong I am! I'd never lose to a stupid old storm!"

"A-ah! I believe you! Kyahhh! Big bro, I'm beginning to feel dizzy…!"

"Oops. Sorry, Ange. I guess I got a bit carried away, given you're still sick and all." Battler smiled sheepishly, pulling his little sister close to his chest. "Although… If you're really that worried, we could make a charm to repel the rain! Would that make you happy?"

"A charm?" asked Ange, tilting her head to one side. "You mean like a teru teru bozu…?"

"Exactly!" said Battler, beaming. "But we don't have one of those dolls… I guess we'll have to hang little Ange out of the window instead!"

"No! No, no, no!" Ange squealed, prodding Battler in the cheek. "Don't do that! If you try I'll bite you!"

"You shouldn't bite people."

"But dad told me I could if people were being really annoying!"

"…Oh did he?" said Battler. "Well, don't listen to him. He's trying to warp you- but you're sweet and innocent, okay?"

Ange beamed. "Okay!"

"I guess hanging you out of the window might be pretty dangerous, though," said Battler, smiling. "We'll just have to sing the chant together and hope it works, okay?"

"Okay!" said Ange, pumping a fist in the air. "But, big brother…"

"Yeah?"

"Um… I don't remember the chant… They taught us it at school, but I forgot it. I-I don't know what to say…"

"Hey, that's okay," said Battler, noticing how upset Ange suddenly looked. "We can just make it up. The best kind of magic works if you just believe, right? I… think I heard something like that in an anime once, ihihi… But the exact chant doesn't matter so long as you believe. Or… something… Eheh."

Battler hoped Ange didn't realize he was making this all up off the top of his head. She might feel betrayed.

Ange's eyes widened. "I… need to believe…?"

"Yes!~ Just think 'Battler will definitely come back' and I will, okay? I'd never leave you. We don't even need a chant. We don't need magic. You just need my promise, right, Angey?"

"R-right…" Ange smiled sleepily. It looked as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Yawning, Ange rested her head against Battler's chest, her eyelids fluttering shut. "I love you, big brother…"

But Ange had already fallen asleep when Battler tucked her up in her own bed, kissed her forehead, and muttered 'I love you too.'


	46. 314 2 10000

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #46: 3.14 2 10000

* * *

><p>"And, finally… five, six, seven!" said Belphegor triumphantly.<p>

Belphegor's calm, serious aura had been completely shattered. She no longer looked so imposingly austere. Instead, there was a small smile on her face and her cheeks were strangely flushed- perhaps in excitement. It was rare to see Belphegor getting so passionate about a conversation topic, certainly.

"W-wow…" said Chiester 45, her words filled with a nervous kind of awe. "T-that's… that's amazing!"

The light pink hue on Belphegor's cheeks only darkened at this comment, though she tried to hide her pride behind a humble smile. Belphegor wasn't used to being praised so much. It was a strange experience… although…

It felt nice, too.

Even if it was a little strange.

"E-eheh, it's no big deal. I just get a little bored sometimes, and I'm fairly good at memorizing facts… s-so this sort of thing comes easily to me!"

"A-amazing…" Chiester 45 repeated, looking at Belphegor will undisguised reverence. Her ears twitched slightly. "I-I am able to store very large amounts of data and complex mathematical sequences… T-they're needed so I can successfully locate targets across differing terrains, you see… B-but not even I can recite such a long sequence of numbers!"

"Ehehe…" Belphegor tried to hide her flushed face under her bangs. "I-it's nothing, really…"

Well, that was what she said. However, deep down inside, Belphegor was secretly overjoyed. None of her sisters ever appreciated her like this…

Finally, for the first time in her life, Belphegor felt as though she'd made a real friend.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, from a distance, Chiester 410 and the other stakes of purgatory were surveying Belphegor and 45. The two girls were sat at a white table, and both of them seemed to be having a discussion.<p>

"They've been talking to each other for hours," said Asmodeus. "What are they talking about, I wonder? What's so interesting?~ I want to knowww!"

Six pairs of crimson eyes turned to look at Chiester 410 who- with her large ears- was better at eavesdropping than them.

"Belphie's just been reciting numbers for the past hour, nihi~" said 410, grinning. "It's a totally boring conversation, really! Not even a 'conversation'! Nihi!"

"Numbers?" asked Leviathan- who, secretly, was just a tad envious Belphegor had managed to make a friend so quickly; especially was Belphegor was known to be rather anti-social. "What sort of numbers?"

"I think she was reciting pi," said Chiester 410.

"Eh? Pi? Like three point one four etc etc?" asked Mammon, pulling a face.

410 nodded. "Exactly!~ Like I said, totally boring!~"

"I'll say…" Mammon agreed. "But… Eh." She paused. "Belphie does seem to be enjoying herself, doesn't she?"

"I guess she doesn't get the chance to show off very much," said Lucifer.

"And even if she tried, it's not like I'd be interested in pi anyway! The only pie I care about is the pie Ronove makes, fufufu~"

"Being able to recite pi to ten thousand places doesn't seem like a very practical skill, does it?" said Leviathan. She giggled. "Haha, I don't really care if she can do that or not! But… if Belphie's happy doing something totally weird and boring like that, then we shouldn't intrude!~"

The six sisters nodded.

"She should be allowed to have a few moments of pride. Let's tell her how pointless her hobby is _tomorrow_," said Mammon.

The six sisters nodded again, smiling- but their smiles weren't cruel (not even Satan's). They were kind. Caring.

They did love each other really.

Very, very deep down.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Because Belphegor seems like the kind of hard-working, pedantic person who would actually be able to recite pi to that many places… just as something to occupy her mind, I guess XD Of course, the other sisters would find it completely pointless.

This one shot was totally inspired by this song:  
>http :  / www . youtube . com / watch?v=eaMWEz-jaHE I was listening to it whilst I wrote this fic. I got 16 minutes thru the song when I finally finished this oneshot XP

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	47. Just for the halibut

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #47: Just for the halibut

* * *

><p>"Beato, you have to eat your mackerel."<p>

"But I don't _want _to eat my mackerel," said Beatrice, looking down at the plate of fish with ill-disguised (she wasn't even trying to disguise it at all) horror. "It looks disgusting."

That much was true. You didn't need the red truth to clarify that statement. The warm mackerel and beetroot salad would have turned anybody's stomach, especiallt a finicky eater like Beatrice (which was, incidentally, why she had a butler who could cook. That meant she didn't have to rely on Virgilia). The large amount of greenery piled up on the plate, mixed sparsely with a few slivers of bright purple and flakes of fish in some strange sauce, was making Beatrice feel ill.

"Can't I just eat the cookies Ronove is preparing?" Beatrice asked imploringly.

"You can't live on cookies."

"Aww, but teacher-"

"No buts. Get it eaten. I prepared it especially for you."

As Beatrice soon discovered, her best wide-eyed stare did not work on Virgilia. The silver-haired witch had seen this expression from her sullen, sulky student before- and, as such, she was used to it.

Maybe Gaap was right. Maybe Virgilia really _was_ evil.

"Mackerel is good for you," said Virgilia brightly. "It keeps you fresh and young."

"I've been young for the past one thousand years. I don't think any fish could change that."

"It's also a source of omega-3 fatty acids that can help reduce the risk of contracting serious disease, and it's filled with vitamin B12."

"Yes… Thanks for those figures, teacher, but it's not convincing me."

"Alright… But…" Virgilia adjusted her hat slightly. She smiled. Then- without any trace of irony to her voice- she said, "but mackerel is also good for the heart. It's filled with a lot of sole."

Beatrice stared at Virgilia for a few moments. Then, she spoke. "…Was that surprised to be a pun?"

"Yes, I suppose it was… Hehe~" Virgilia gave a small, elegant laugh, so completely at odds with her terrible joke it made Beatrice screw her face up in confusion.

Then, Beatrice sighed.

"Oh cod."


	48. Teeth

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #48: Teeth

* * *

><p>"<em>Great white sharks are ambush hunters, surprising their prey from below- and, as you can imagine, their great teeth pack a colossal punch! With a biting force of over eighteen thousand newtons it becomes obvious these sharks are well deserved of their nickname 'white death'."<em>

"Whoa. That's pretty brutal. Heh. They kinda remind me of my lovely big sister. She has the same taste for blood."

"Now, now, don't be rude. I'm sure Eva is much more dangerous than a shark!" said Asumu, giggling as she prodded Rudolf in the side. "You shouldn't underestimate the power of an angry woman!"

"Living with you, Asumu, I never would."

"Hehe~ I see I have you well trained~"

Asumu and Rudolf were curled up on the sofa in their living room watching- strangely enough- a documentary about sharks. It was more stereotypical that a couple would watch a romance movie. However, Rudolf was incapable of sitting through two hour long, overdrawn confessions of love from blithering idiots alternatively throwing an idiot ball between one another without inserting deadpan commentary or sniggering to himself. Asumu herself found movies like that, although 'cute', somewhat annoying.

"Romance movies are adorable- like, really adorable!" Asumu had once said to Rudolf. "They try so hard to make you like them, you can tell that they're trying! It's like, ;do your best!' But… Sometimes I think they try too hard. Then it feels unnatural, and kind of silly. Plus, the ending's always the same! The happy ending gets boring the fiftieth time, you know?"

Oh, how Rudolf knew,

And so, instead of watching a romantic comedy- or anything involving romance at all- the couple were watching a documentary on sharks, as per Asumu's request.

…Asumu was a strange person.

"My, look at those big teeth~"

"All the better to eat you with?" suggested Rudolf.

Asumu giggled. "Hehe~ Awww, sharks are so awesome! Don't you think they're awesome?"

"You're beginning to sound like Battler," said Rudolf, smirking. He then proceeded to put on a high pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his son; "'This is awesome, that is awesome, the world is amazing, what's this, what's this, what am I doing, where am I?' Ahaha… He's such an annoying brat."

Asumu pouted, giving Rudolf another prod in the side. "Don't call your son an 'annoying brat'! He's an _angel_~"

Rudolf only snorted. If only _his_ mother had said that about him. Battler was lucky having a kind parent like Asumu-

"Whoa! Did you see that? That tuna didn't stand a chance! I mean- that's insane! Really! …I still think Eva's kind of scarier, though."

-even if Asumu was kind of 'quirky'.

"I think I might prefer wrestling with a shark than my dear sister. Sharks typically aren't well versed in martial arts," said Rudolf. "Although, it's kind of strange."

"Strange? What's strange?" asked Asumu, tilting her head to one side.

Meanwhile, in the background, the lovely white shark was tearing more helpless sea creatures to pieces.

"You," said Rudolf, prodding his wife on the forehead. "You're_ terrified_ of boats. I kind of thought, by extension, you wouldn't like anything lethal that lurks underwater."

"Sharks and boats are completely different," said Asumu, folding her arms. "Boats make me feel sick and I have to deal with them all the time 'cause your family has to be all eccentric and special with their own private island! The only time I've seen a real shark is at an aquarium, and Yukarin is hardly going to hurt me! I mean, Yukarin let Battler stare at her for five minutes pulling faces and roaring- she was totally harmless!"

Rudolf raised a brow. "Yukarin…?"

"Actually, Yukari, but Yukarin sounds more friendly! Hehe~"

"…You gave the shark in the aquarium a name?"

"Why not? Everything has a name! Just because it's a shark it doesn't mean it doesn't deserve a title!"

"What, so you want to make it a baron now, too?" asked Rudolf, sniggering.

"Don't be silly. Yukarin's a girl."

"Well, I'm not the one who gives names to sharks. But… Yukarin? _Really_? Isn't that a bit of an… unimpressive… name for a shark?"

"I just think sharks get a bad press!" said Asumu, clapping her hands to her chest. Meanwhile, her eyes seemed to become distant, almost sparkly. "I mean, they're so cool, and there's kind of cute, too! There's a certain elegance about them! Oh my gosh, they're adorable! I want one! Rudolf, Rudolf, Rudolfffff~"

"Asumu Asumu Asumu?"

"If your company ends up being really rich- like super, super omega awesome never work again type rich- then do you think you could buy me a pet shark?" asked Asumu, blinking up winsomely at Rudolf from under her messy bangs. "Maybe you could adopt Yukarin for me! It'd be so cooool- and Battler would be able to boast about having the best pet ever to all his little kindergarten friends! I think having a shark would bring us together closer as a family! Or, if that's too insane, we could always have a pet sting ray… I think I'd call a sting ray Momo… Or maybe that would be unfitting 'cause of the Western name theme in your family, so we could name it after Eva… Or maybe Evangeline! That's a nice name! Or maybe…"

At this point, Rudolf really had to silence the happily babbling Asumu. When she became lost in her own ramblings, she could keep talking for hours, even if nobody else was listening.

Rudolf pressed a quick kiss against her lips- cutting her off mid-sentence- before drawing away, smiling.

"Hey," Asumu pouted, "that's a cheap trick. You didn't even let me talk about the eels I wanted!"

Rudolf couldn't help but laugh at the indignant look on Asumu's face.

She honestly was the most bizarre person Rudolf had ever met. She was deathly afraid of all moving vehicles, yet she found horror movies hilarious, she had a strange penchant for spiders and she gave sharks at the aquarium nicknames and thought they were 'adorable'.

But… it was almost impossible not to smile around her.

Battler was very, very lucky indeed.

And, although this was horribly cheesy to admit… Rudolf knew he was, too.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I kind of imagine Asumu being all eccentric and quirky and adorkable ;3 I don't know y XD Lolol double update in one day cause I'm bored XD~


	49. What's in a name?

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #49: What's in a name?

* * *

><p>"Jessica! Jessica, stop that right now!"<p>

Natsuhi reached forwards, her long skirts shifting around her legs as she pulled back her enraged young daughter. Jessica's face was flushed red, her eyes narrowed, and- even though Natsuhi tried to restrain the five year old girl- she was thrashing her arms and legs in an almighty show of anger.

Jessica was quite frightening when she was upset. She must've inherited that from her dear old grandfather.

Battler was whimpering; shying away from Jessica in fear, whilst he turned and hid in Asumu's arms.

"No! I still wanna hit him!" Jessica whined, struggling against Natsuhi's restraining arms. "He ate my cookie! He ate it! I hate him! I hate you, Batttleerrrrrr! Wahhhh!"

"Jessica, calm down!" said Natsuhi sharply. She felt as if she would _die _of embarrassment. All her relatives were watching; why did Jessica have to throw a tantrum now! "Calm down or you'll have to go to bed early!"

"Ah, don't be too hard on her~ Children will be children," said Asumu, smiling, as hugged Battler to her chest.

"Besides, being beaten around a bit'll do this brat some good," said Rudolf, ruffling Battler's already messy hair. He smirked. "If Battler's going around making girls cry he deserves to be slapped around a little."

"It's not like he'll learn manners from his father, anyway," said Asumu, still smiling pleasantly to mask the fact she'd made a rather scathing remark.

"Jessica is such a tough girl, fufu~" said Eva appraisingly. "I like a woman that can stand up for herself!"

"Really…?" said Natsuhi hopefully, looking around at her relatives. "You… really mean that?"

"Well, my George would never lose his temper like that~" said Eva. "But your Jessica is still very young. You shouldn't be too hard on her."

"Yes. Children are so sweet and innocent; you have to forgive them for their petty squabbles. It reminds me of when I was young~ Hehe~" Rosa- the only adult assembled who did not have a child of her own (though she was very happy with her new boyfriend, thank you very much)- giggled. "I have to wonder though, Asumu. Why did you call Battler 'Battler'?"

"Ahaha, yeah," said Hideyoshi, smiling without a hint of malice (unlike his wife, who was doubtlessly comparing Jessica to George in her mind. She must have been pleased with the results of her comparison, because her smile was growing wider and wider). "Battler's a sweet kid an' all but he's not much of a fighter, ya know? Little Jessie here got the better of him no problem, ahaha."

"Well, Asumu and I wanted to give this brat a strong name so he'd grow up to be tough! And if we gave him a stupid name he might get picked on, and this'd make him stronger so he can beat up anybody who gives him grief. That was our reasoning, anyway," said Rudolf.

Eva and Rosa giggled, a rare show of sisterly bonding, as they both turned to watch little Battler crying into the front of Asumu's shirt.

"So that plan was a complete and utter failure, then," said Eva.

The others nodded in agreement.


	50. EXTRA: Asmodeus, author extraordinaire

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 50: Asmodeus, author extraordinaire

* * *

><p>Hiiii, <em>renahhchen<em>! (^-^*)

…Oh wow, Belphie was right! You really do have a funny name, don't you? *gigglegiggle* That's not your real name riiiight? Riiiiight? Hehehe~ /^.^/

Um, anyway, I keep reading your stories- mainly 'cause there's not much else to dooo round here *sobsob* （ToT）（ToT）But I realized there's not very much ~*~romance~*~ in them, is there?

I think you should change that! I seriously think you should change that! Everybody likes romance!~ *giggle*

Oh, though…

There's only, like, one guy in the meta world… and Ronove doesn't really count as a _guy_… (*´ο`*)=3 If you know what I'm saying…

But don't despair!~ ~smiiiile~ ^_^;; That's why I wrote you an amazing story to show you what kind of ~*~ROMANCE~*~ you could be writing about! If you started writing like this I'd be super happy!

I didn't show this amazing story to my sisters 'cause they might STEAL MY IDEA O: So nobody else has read through it. But I guess that 10000% concentrated Asmodeus… um… _**ness**_will make it better :3

Tell me what you think about it cause I worked really hard!

* * *

><p><strong>A Love Story<strong>  
><strong>by Asmodeus, the Stake of Lust<strong>

Once upon a time there was a really really cute young girl called Asmodeus. Like, she was so adorable you wouldn't even believe it! Everybody who knew her LOVED her because she was sososososo cute!~ :3

However, Asmodeus had a problem. So many people ~*~_loved_~*~ her that she didn't know what guy to chose!

One day Asmodeus was thinking about this really, reeeallly hard, and because she was thinking so hard (oh & I actually CAN think, Belphie, so THERE) she stumbled and very nearly fell of the side off a cliff! OMG! O:

But then it was okay because somebody caught her! YAY! (You think I'd kill the main character off? LOL I really had you going there :3)

The guy who caught her was like realllyyy attractive with white hair, but not in a disgusting old kind of way because he was really young, and Asmodeus realized it was Ange's kind-of-sort-of friend (BUT HE WOULD _TOTALLY_LIKE ME MORE THAN ANGE), Amakusa.

Amakusa said, "Oh, I was so worried you were going to die, fair maiden!" Because he talks like that. At least, he would to somebody as beautiful as Asmodeus!

And Asmodeus said, "Thank you so much for saving me!" And as she looked into his beautiful eyes she realized that she had ~*~*~FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM.~*~*~ _**YAYY!~~**_

Of course, Amakusa had always been in love with Asmodeus, because EVERYBODY WAS, so he said "call me Juuza." Because that's like his real name. And then Asmodeus was all 'SQUEE' and then they kissed each other and it was really beautiful and stuff because she sun was going down on the beach and the sky was orange and pink and Asmodeus was in XxXLOVEEExXx!

Then they had a big wedding on the beach, and Asmodeus was wearing white and she looked really pretty, and she invited all her sisters and Ange and Milady and Miss Virgilia and I guess Ronove and Gaap can come if they want too, and the other 6 sisters were her bridesmaids and they were very pretty in their dresses (but not as pretty as Asmodeus!) but Levia was all jealous because she didn't have a boyfriend and Ange was all jealous too and EVERYBODY WAS ENVIOUS OF ASMODEUS but Asmodeus didn't care because she was ~sooooo~ happy!~ Then she lived happily ever after!~~

Except Beelze ate all her wedding cake first, because she's a FAT PIG.

That kind of sucked.

Everything else was perfect, though.

_**The End**_

* * *

><p>So what do you think? :3 I've never really written anything before, but I think it was really, really good! I honestly think it might be better than some of the stuff you've written…<p>

The ending was so cute too! Especially with… YOU KNOW. What comes AFTER （＾＿－） wink

Stupid fat Beelze kind of spoilt my wedding though : But she's stupid and ruins everything like that.

Okay, please respond ASAP! I have lots of other ideas now! I'll write them if you want me to! o(^^o)(o^^)o

Love and kisses  
>XxXx Asmodeus xXxX<p>

* * *

><p><strong>an: **50th chapter so… Something a little different again :3 Writing this was fun- it felt like I had half my brain missing, ehehe… XD  
>Umm, in regards to the comments by Fan of Games (thank you for reviewing… Thank you to everybody for reviewing ^_^), I would reply to all your comments if you had personal messaging enabled on your account XP It'd kind of difficult to talk without that XD<p>

**~renahhchen**


	51. Melted chocolate

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #51: Melted chocolate

* * *

><p>"Happy Valentine's DAY."<p>

"Hn?"

Will looked at Dlanor A. Knox over the top of the book he was reading. The moment his eyes fell upon the first class priest, his previous thoughts regarding his book were thrown straight out of the metaphorical window. His hands holding the heavy hardback fell to his desk with a dull _thump_- and it was incredibly lucky his mouth did not do the same, it had opened so wide. His eyes were slightly wider than usual, too; a perfect picture of complete and utter confusion. It was not an expression that converged on Willard H. Wright's face very often. Truly, it was a rare moment, like a lunar eclipse, or white Christmases, or making Gertrude blush.

Will had every reason to be surprised, though. Stood before his desk in his office, her face carefully blank (as per usual), was Dlanor. Death Sentence Dlanor. Dlanor of the Ten Wedges.

_That _Dlanor.

Whilst Will knew Dlanor was not quite as fearsome as her hulking reputation, and- deep down- she was quite a kind person, he had never expected (not in a million years) that the Archbishop Dlanor A. Knox who had sentenced her own father to death, would ever wish him a happy Valentine's Day.

…Much less that she would accompany her warm wishes with a heart-shaped box of chocolates that looked suspiciously as though it had been crafted from hand.

It would have been a cute gesture from a wide-eyed, innocent girl, like that Chiester bunny girl with the pink hair… However, Dlanor's face was expressionless as always, her eyes blank, and her face didn't really complement the home-made box of chocolates in her hands. It was a little like superimposing a fashion model's head on an octopus' body. It made_ no_ sense.

It took Will a few moments to remember how to talk.

"I appreciate the sentiments, surely, but this…" Will gestuered towards the box of chocolates in Dlanor's hands. "This seems a little out of character for a person like you."

"Did I surprise YOU?"

"Just a little."

"I'm SORRY," said Dlanor, not sounding very sorry at all. "Gertrude told me about the cult of young girls handing chocolates to other people on a certain day, and she encouraged me to try IT. I made chocolate for Gertrude TOO."

"Oh, I see," said Will, relaxing slightly. Now the prospect of Dlanor launching into some strange love confession- complete with blank eyes and an unchanging, robotic voice- had withered away, he was finding it easier to regain his composure. "So these are obligation chocolates?"

Dlanor nodded stiffly. A dull, mechanical clank filled the room as she inclined her head.

"I suppose I have to accept them, then," said Will, a rare smile on his face, as he took the home-made, pink-painted box from Dlanor. "Did you make these chocolates by yourself?"

"I'm only a KID. I'm not very good in the kitchen so Gertrude had to HELP."

"I see. Well, I appreciate your effort. I'm not a very good cook either," said Will, tactful and charming as always, as he untied the pink ribbon. He had to admit, he was a little excited to see what kind of chocolates Dlanor A. Knox had made…

But, as Will discovered when he took the top off the heart-shaped box, he would never find out.

The box was empty.

Empty, save for a small smear of chocolate clinging to the cardboard bottom of the container.

"…I appreciate the sentiments," said Will slowly, looking at the empty box, "but... I was always under the impression, when a girl gave somebody Valentine's chocolates, there would actually _be_ some chocolate inside the box."

Dlanor answered without a hint of embarrassment on her face. "I was HUNGRY."

"So you ate my obligation chocolate?"

Dlanor nodded. "I don't have enough willpower to stay away from CHOCOLATE. But, if it would help you to imagine what my present would have tasted like, I will tell you THIS. They were very DELICIOUS. I'm sure you would have liked THEM."

"Is that so?" said Will, after a small pause.

Will sighed.

Perhaps he'd been stupid to get so intrigued about a present Dlanor had given him. It was obvious, despite her 'Happy Valentine's Day' wishes, Dlanor didn't understand how the holiday worked at all.

"It is SO. I made the chocolates with you mind, so it would have been a waste if I didn't try to present them to YOU. I wanted to make my feelings known even if I didn't have any chocolate left to GIVE."

"So you still want to give me your feelings?" said Will, after a pause. "Even though you ate the chocolate?"

"Yes." Dlanor nodded. "You have been my friend for many YEARS. Whilst the chocolate would have been proof of my feelings, I believe if I needed to prove my feelings with material objects our friendship would not be as strong as it IS. If you can understand my feelings without material evidence, then surely that is a good THING? Whilst Valentine's Day sounds like fun… I think it is, in the end, UNECESSARY."

Will's eyes widened again at this. For the second time in five minutes, Dlanor had shocked him. And… funnily enough- despite her emotionless exterior- Dlanor's evaluation on 'friendship' was entirely correct.

Friendships based on material gifts were not 'friendships' at all. Emotions weren't like mystery novels, and you didn't need solid evidence- like chocolate- to prove you liked spending time in somebody's company. You merely needed to be that person's friend, and stand by their side when they were in trouble… and that was proof enough.

Chocolates really were unnecessary.

Aha… This was getting kind of corny, though.

"Oh, but do not misunderstand ME," said Dlanor, after a pause. "I still expect you to repay my kindness on White DAY. I like white chocolate more than plain chocolate, and I don't like dark chocolate at ALL. I will look forward to seeing what you get ME."

Will's small, sentimental smile froze, like a body of water in winter.

...T-that girl really had some nerve!

Despite her grand words, she really was a 'kid' after all…


	52. A slight disagreement

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #52: A slight disagreement

* * *

><p>"If anybody's going to play Miss Scarlet it's going to be <em>me<em>! I'm _always _Miss Scarlet!"

"Pfft! Just 'cause you wear a red dress it doesn't mean you have the right to steal the best character in the whoooole game!"

"You're nothing but a little pipsqueak with no breasts at all! Gyahaha!~ You couldn't be a sexy femme fatale like me even if you drank milk every day for one thousand years!"

"I don't have big breasts because all the milk I drink goes to my mind!~~ Miss Scarlet might be hot, but she's also super-smart- and _**I **_am a genius!"

"Ohhh?~ So much of a genius you lost your title of the 'greatest witch' to Bernkastel?~ Ehehehehehe~~~"

"That was a one-off! This has nothing to do with that, stuuu~uuupid! _I'm _going to be Miss Scarlet!"

"No, she's _**my **_character!"

"You don't own her!"

"I do now!"

"Hey, give that card back!"

"Noo~ooo way!"

"Um…" said Virgilia, trying her hold her hands between the bickering pair, "you do realize the character you play as doesn't have an impact on the outcome of the game, yes? It's not important…"

"It matters to us!" Gaap and Lambdadelta turned to shout in perfect unison.

"Poor, naïve Lia~" said Gaap, smirking, as she rapped her silver-haired 'friend' (to use the term loosely) over the head. "What character you choose shows your personality! I mean, you always choose Miss White, and Riiche is always Mrs Peacock. The characters show your heart and soul!"

"Exactly!" said Lambdadelta, nodding. "A Miss Scarlet type has to be really attractive with lots of sex appeal- but brains to go with it, you know!~"

"It's just a shame there aren't characters renowned for their awful dress sense and general stupidity," Beatrice muttered darkly under her breath. "Then we'd have a perfect fit for these two…"

"Hey, I heard that!" Lambda wailed childishly. "Humph!~ You're just as bad as Bern! Remember, Beato, you have to speak politely when you talk to your elders!"

"You might be older than this child, but at the moment… Well." Virgilia sighed. "It's just a game. Please calm down, you two."

"If you think it's 'just a game' then you're not taking it seriously enough!" Gaap cried, stabbing a finger in Virgilia's face.

"That's right!~"

"Well… why don't you use rock paper scissors to determine who gets to be Miss Scarlet, then?" asked Virgilia softly, ever the voice of reason in a sea of insanity (unless, of course, she managed to get swept up in the tides).

At this, both Lambda and Gaap's eyes lit up.

"Deal!" they cried again, in unison.

"You know," said Beatrice darkly, "they're so alike it's a little scary."

"Birds of a feather flock together?" Ronove suggested with a wry smile.

Beatrice scowled. "If that's the case, those two are some very disturbing birds indeed."

* * *

><p>"I win!" Lambda cried triumphantly. "I win, I win!"<p>

"No you don't! Scissors beats paper!"

"But it's **super paper**!"

Beatrice sighed, slumping against the table top. "They've been doing this for the past ten minutes. We're never going to start the game at this rate."

Beatrice's woes were interrupted, however, by a cheerful exclamation of "Ooh, Cluedo!~"

Beatrice, Virgilia and Ronove turned their heads to see none other than Mammon stood before them, a smile on her face.

"Can I play?~ Please, please, pretty please?~" Mammon cooed.

"Of course," said Virgilia. "We only have five players at the moment, so it should be fine… Unless you're a person who gets picky about what character they play."

"No, I'll be whoever!~" said Mammon cheerfully, taking a seat beside Ronove.

"Well, it's nice to know somebody has an ounce of sense around here," said Beatrice.

"I mean, I know I'm incredibly sexy already, so if I play an ugly character, like Colonel Mustard, it'll just emphasize how wonderful the real me is, right? I wouldn't want a picture on a card to threaten my good looks!~ That would just be depressing!~ Gyahaha!~" Mammon laughed, picking the Colonel Mustard card off the table.

Virgilia sighed. She had to feel a little sorry for Colonel Mustard, even if he wasn't actually real. Nobody liked him.

"What are those two arguing about?" asked Mammon, gesturing towards the still bickering, still rock-paper-scissor-ing Lambdadelta and Gaap.

"Who gets to play Miss Scarlet," said Beatrice.

"They believe to play as Miss Scarlet one must be aesthetically pleasing and intelligent," said Ronove, smiling. "As Gaap can get rather defensive about her looks, I imagine this dispute could last a while…"

"Ooh!" Mammon's eyes lit up, and her hand shot in the air as though she were in primary school. "I have an idea! Pick me, pick me!"

"What?" asked Beatrice. "Not that I'm expecting a decent answer out of _you_."

"I don't know what you mean by that~" said Mammon lightly, smiling. "Anyway~ Ahem~ My super-omega-awesome idea is… Ronove should play Miss Scarlet instead!"

"…What?" Beatrice asked blankly.

"Well, if those two can't agree, just let Ronove be Miss Scarlet. That'll teach 'em not to moan and whine anymore, or they'll never get what they want. Besides, Ronove's wa~aay more sexy than Gaap or Lady Lambda~ Ehehehehe no offence~"

Ronove laughed. "You speak from personal preference, Miss Mammon?"

"Well, yeah. What girl doesn't like a butler?"

"You flatter me. Pu ku ku~"

* * *

><p>Thus, in the end, Ronove ended up playing Miss Scarlet, whilst Lambda was Professor Plum and Gaap was Mr Green.<p>

Gaap stared down at her card in disgust. Then, she turned to fix Lambdadelta with a withering gaze.

"Well, thank you Miss Super Paper," Gaap hissed. "Now we're _both _unhappy."


	53. Happy families

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #53: Happy families

* * *

><p>Natsuhi's sobs were muffled by her husband's chest. His arms were wrapped around her so protectively, and his words of comfort were so sweet- but that only made the pain in Natsuhi's heart sting even more. It was almost as if, by acting kind, he was rubbing salt into her wounds; trying to make her feel even more guilty.<p>

H-her husband loved her so much, and she couldn't even produce a baby for him! She was a failure as a wife- and a failure as a woman.

Natsuhi knew, just as the other Ushiromiyas did, that she'd only been married to Krauss so she could bear his children; children to continue the noble lineage of the Ushiromiya family. She had no other purpose in life, no other reason to even _have_ 'Ushrimoya' as her last name and Krauss as her husband- a-and she couldn't fulfil her duty.

Useless…

S-she really was useless.

She wanted nothing more than to have a child. She preferred the idea of having a daughter; lots of daughters, maybe fix or six, even seven, with ladylike manners and beautiful clothes. She would have gladly accepted a boy at this stage, though. She would have accepted _anything._

Her life would be worth living if she had seven beautiful daughters… Then Eva wouldn't sneer at her anymore. Then she would have earned her place as an 'Ushiromiya'. Then she would be deserving of her husband.

Then, she would finally be happy… and at peace.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Luci, how long are you going to take in showerrr?"<p>

"As long as necessary! I need to clean my hair thoroughly; I don't do things by halves unlike **you**, Mammon!"

"Well, ha, ha, friggin' **ha**. Aren't you the comedian, big sis? But I've gotta warn you, even if you do spend three hours on your appearance every morning, no guy will EVER want to date you because of that _awful_ personality of yours!"

"S-shut up! You're not one to talk!"

"Luci, hurry uppp! You really need to get outta the showerrrr!"

"Why? Do you feel all gross and icky too, Beelze?"

"No, it's not _me_, Asmo. Leviathan smells really awful and she's making me feel sick! We need to get this girl to some water before her stench kills us all!"

"S-shut up! S-shut up, Beelze, I **don't **smell."

"Um, I know this might sound mean, and I'm not trying to take sides, but Levia… You kind of _do_."

"Shut up! Shut up, stop lying! I-I **don't **smell- stop sniffing me, Asmo! You too, Mammon! If anybody smells it's Beelze cause she's always eating, like a PIG!"

"At least I don't _smell _like one!"

"T-take that back! If you don't I'll… I'll… uwahhh!"

"For God's sake, shut up or I'll knock your heads together! Lucifer, get **out** of the shower. Beelzeub and Asmodeus, stop bullying Levia- and Levia, yes, you **do** smell. And Mammon…"

"Yess, dear big sis Satan?~"

"…Just stop being _you_. Stop it or I'll punch you in the jaw."

"Ahh~ Sisterly love."

"I told you to shut up!"

"You started it!"

"I don't smell!"

"Lucifer, get out of the showerrrrrr!"

"Ewww! Asmo, stop _touching my hair_!"

"I'm not touching your hair, Levia! Why would I want to touch something so greasy- my fingers might get stuck in it."

"T-that was mean!"

"Um, excuse me… Has anybody seen my hairbrush? It seems to move around all the time, even though I always put it in a certain place- but nobody respects that! Nobody cares about my system…"

"We don't **care** about your stupid _system_, Belphegor!"

"We're having a crisis here!"

"My hair isn't greasy!"

"If you guys don't shut up I'm going to shove my hand down your throats."

"What, all at once? Niiice- that's some skill, Satan."

"Stop being facetious, Mammon!"

"Get off me, Asmo! I hate you!"

"I hate you more!"

"WILL EVERYBODY PLEASE SHUT UP?"

* * *

><p>In a very different dimension, in a completely different time, Natsuhi shuddered.<p>

…Maybe having _seven _daughters was a little bit ambitious.


	54. An apple a day

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #54: An apple a day

* * *

><p>"U-um, sis… I-I don't think this is a very good idea!"<p>

"Don't be silly, nihi~ Apples are good for you, rii~iight?"

"U-um, yes, I suppose so-"

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away, yess?~ Nihi~~"

"P-people do say that, b-but…"

"So what's the problemmm?~ Stop being such a baby! This is good for you!~ Character building! Take it like a man!"

"I-I'm not male."

"Then take it like a proud member of the Chiester Sister Royal Corps!"

"I-it's actually the 'Chiester Sister Imperial Guard Corps', sis…"

"Whatever~ Who cares? Nyeheh~"

"Y-you know… Apples are only healthy when you're actually eating them! T-this isn't anything like eating an apple!" said Chiester 45. Panicked tears began to build in the corners of her eyes, as she tried to appeal to her sister's sensibilities (of which were seriously lacking). 45 wanted to run away- but she was half afraid, if she did, her sister would shoot anyway. Sudden movements could drive those painful golden arrows into the back of her head, or her eyes, or her stomach…

H-how did it come to this?

"Gathering terrain data…"

"W-wait, sis!"

"Preparing for sniping pursuit combat~"

"L-lord Pendragon won't be happy, I-I promise you!"

"Accumulating terrain data~"

"H-hey! Acquiring terrain data is my job!"

"Data received!~"

"Chiester 00 w-will be very angry! S-she might scold us…"

"Acquiring target lock; revising terrain calculations; forming firing curve… Selecting ammunition; loading~ Nihi~"

"O-our attack sequence is pretty long-winded, isn't it? It's fine for humans, but it'd give a witch or demon plenty of time to just portal away…"

"Aiming…"

"K-kyahh! S-stop it, s-stop it!"

Chiester 45 could only tremble in fear. Her legs were quivering so badly it felt as if they'd collapse from underneath her like a flimsy house of cards.

"S-sis…" 45 stuttered. "C-can't you practice your aim on s-s-something else? A-an apple a day might keep the doctor away, b-b-but in this case I think it's the reverse! P-please stop!"

"…No."

"S-sis!"

"_Firing_~"

There was a loud _whoosh _as Chiester 410's golden arrow shot through the air-

And cleanly pierced the flesh of the apple sat atop of 45's head.

Number of fatalities: one red apple.

Number of casualties: one Chiester 45... who was now hyperventilating on the floor.


	55. Fan mail

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #55: Fan mail

* * *

><p>"Hmn? Oh, now this <em>is<em> a surprise, fufufu~"

Hachijo Ikuko, the 'cool' (as dubbed by her fans) and 'mysterious' (as dubbed by media) author giggled to herself as she shifted through her mail.

Despite her status as a bestselling author, nobody knew where she lived. Her house was verging on being quite big, but it was obvious the owner of it was rich, but it wasn't so grand it was tasteless. Nobody would have suspected the polite young woman who lived in that pretty house was _the_ Hachijo Tohya (or at least, one half of the 'Hachijo Tohya' alias) who wrote all those mystery novels.

The idea of being hounded by the media and pounced on by squealing fans, all demanding answers for puzzles they were too lazy to solve, was enough to make Ikuko feel despondent; even a little irritated, and she was usually so relaxed. If everybody knew who she was and where she lived, nobody would ever seriously try to solve the problems presented in her books again. They'd ask her for the answers out of laziness.

If people didn't seriously try to solve mystery novels, what was the point in writing them?

There was almost none.

Besides, Ikuko didn't think her co-author, Tohya, could handle the stress of being the public eye. He was kind of fragile.

Even so, despite these strict precautions Ikuko had taken to ensure nobody knew who she was, she still- inexplicably- had… fan mail?

The letter looked innocent enough, mixed between various bills, but when Ikuko opened the white envelope it became clear this was, indeed, a letter from somebody who had read her books.

How did they know where she lived? Her address wasn't public knowledge- and neither was her identity…

Maybe the sender was a 'Master Detective'- although, in real life situations, you'd call people like that 'stalkers', or maybe 'Witch Hunters'. Even so, Ikuko only laughed. This looked interesting.

_Very _interesting indeed.

Ikuko _despised_ boredom. That was why she enjoyed writing so much; creating her own worlds, borrowing characters from Tohya's over-active imagination, when the real world became too banal to satisfy her. Maybe it was a selfish reason for writing, but it was the truth. Nobody liked to be bored.

Depositing the bills on her table (it wasn't like she was going to lose any sleep over them; she easily had enough money to pay them), Ikuko took a seat in her favourite rocking chair and began to read through the letter.

_Hello, Miss Hachijo 'Tohya',_

_Yes, I know you're female, contrary to the rumors… fufufufu. Please don't ask how I know, for a fan of the mystery genre such as yourself would not accept the truth. Even now, you must be labelling me as some kind of 'stalker'- but let me assure you I am far more remarkable than that. It is not arrogance that compels me to write this, but the truth, even though I know you won't believe me._

_I'm a devoted fan of your work. It's very true to my own life. I find some of the mystery aspects too simplistic (unlike the other fools who read your work without even attempting to comprehend it), so I thought I would ignore the mystery element. For a person like me, it's pitifully easy to formulate theories, and they generally prove to be correct in most scenarios._

_Instead__ of talking about your novels- further discussion about them would be pointless for one such as I, who has understood all there is to understand- I decided I would write a short story featuring some of your characters to… pay homage to your great works as an author. And if a certain somebody else happens to be with you, perhaps you could tell him about this mysterious letter as well. He might remember who I am._

_I hope you enjoy this tale I crafted just for you, using your own characters. It is very much like moving pieces around on a board…__ Your creations, though they stemmed from your mind and heart, are forced to obey _my _whims and wishes. It is a pain real humans are not so obedient._

_Yours sincerely,__  
>Frederica Bernkastel<em>

As Alice might have said- were she not a fictional character whose thoughts put in her mouth by Lewis Carroll- this certainly was 'curiouser and curiouser'. Ikuko smirked. Somehow, she sensed a… connection with this 'Frederica' girl; almost as if she had met her before.

Maybe she had.

Ikuko lowered her gaze to read the story Frederica had penned for her…

And her face grew ashen.

It was rare for Ikuko to startle, but this… _this_… especially involving her _own characters_…!

This wasn't a 'story' at all. This was just _filth_. It was so completely at odds with aloof, yet strangely polite message before, that Ikuko had to doubt whether it was written by the same person. If it was, Frederica had a pretty twisted imagination. What were the goat butlers doing to Battler? And when did octopi feature in her stories? 'The Octopus of the Golden Witch'? That wasn't a novel Ikuko had ever thought about!

Her fans were very, very sick people.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bernn~" Lambda cooed, looking over the blue-haired witch's shoulder. "What chu doing?~"<p>

"Writing."

"Hmn?" Lambdaldeta's eyes widened as they snagged on a few rather… 'risqué' phrases in Bernkastel's 'magnum opus'. "Kukuku~ I didn't realize you were into stuff like _that_, Bern!~ I thought you had more classss. Usually you play all hard-to-get, like 'no, I'm not interested' and 'this is boring' and 'can't you see I'm reading?' If you're getting all hot and bothered you can just ask me, you don't need to vent by spilling it on paperrrr~"

"I have no intention of acting in such a disgraceful manner," Bernkastel replied dryly. "At least, not whilst I am completely sober and fully aware of my actions. I'm merely sending dear Auaurora a few letters. At least…" Bernkastel smirked. "Her human vessel."

"Haha~ Wow, this is kind of hot," said Lambdadelta, looking at Bernkastel's latest story. "But, Nanjo and Kumasawa? Really? I mean, _really_? You're wasting your talent on those two? They, like, contribute precisely _zero_ to the story on a whole! Couldn't you write something about more… _interesting _characters?"

Bernkastel's smile grew wider, though her eyes remained blank and empty. "Don't worry. I'll include something _adorable _about you and me in the next instalment, if you want. Fufufufufu~"

If by 'adorable' you meant poking out eyes and cutting off the odd limb or two.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Tried hard on Bern's letter to get her aloof, arrogant attitude down- but she's very polite about it, obviously :D  
>The separate 'worlds' of fantasy and human creatures in Umineko is a little confusing, and I'm not sure how well the two can interact (anti-magic toxin plus the question of whether these fantasy creatures are even real at all or just humans being a bit mentalextra layers created by Beato/Ikuko when they wrote their stories), but given Bern is a voyager witch and she has a grand old time in the human world tormenting Ange, I think an interaction like this might be possible.

**~renahhchen xoxo  
><strong>


	56. Die for me!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #56: Die for me!

* * *

><p>"The play I saw last night was so beautiful…" Beatrice said dreamily, her hands clasped at her chest. "Truly, it was a theatrical masterpiece."<p>

"Is that so, Milady?" asked Ronove. His smile was impassive as he pushed his pawn forwards two spaces.

Ronove and Beatrice were playing chess together. It was one of Beatrice's favourite past times- for, despite being fairly romantic at heart (er… very, _very _deep at heart), she was also reasonably logical. Unfortunately, 'logic' was one personality trait most of Beatrice's friends and furniture lacked.

"Yes~" said Beatrice, a small smile creeping onto her lips. By this point, she had all-but abandoned her game of chess; her mind too overcome with memories of the play she had seen. "It was truly heart-rending… The princess' butler traded places with her to save his lady's life, so he was the one who ended up being executed for her sins… whilst she escaped... And she spent her days tormented by her butler's sacrifice. It was so heart-warming…"

"Is this an indirect attempt to say 'please make a careless move so I don't lose at this game of chess', Milady?" asked Ronove, smiling.

"E-eh?" Beatrice's face flushed. She looked like a young girl who had been caught out stealing cookies or telling lies. "U-um, no… of course not… I-if I wanted you to stop putting my king in check I'd tell you, and then you'd have to obey! I wouldn't do it in such a roundabout manner; I'd give it as a command like a real witch!"

"But if you simply commanded me to lose, wouldn't playing chess become rather dull?"

"…Tch." Beatrice scowled. She folded her arms. "M-maybe you have a point… B-but, Ronove…"

At Beatrice's wheedling tone of voice, Ronove instantly knew she was going to ask him some kind of favor. Beatrice was speaking in a similar way to Beelzebub when she wanted to cadge more than her fair share of cookies.

"Yes, Milady?"

"Mu… well…" Beatrice frowned. "If I was going to die, would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

"Are you asking me to wilfully commit suicide on your behalf, Milady? Have you been offending Lady Bernkastel again?"

"No, it's just hypothetical! Urgh." Beatrice- despite her supposed 'one thousand years' of existence pouted like a small child. "Why do you and Lia always assume the worst of me?"

"Merely because we worry about you?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"In any case… I enjoy your company, certainly- despite your notoriously short temper… But would I really die for you, I wonder…? Perhaps, if you commanded it, I would have no choice~ Much like, if you commanded it, I would have to retract this move…"

With that, Ronove moved his pawn forward one more space. He did it with a strange kind of flourish, as though he were a chef unveiling a new recipe.

"Checkmate."

"E-eh?" Beatrice had been so engrossed in the conversation she hardly noticed- but, whilst her head had been elsewhere, Ronove had somehow managed to corner her king… with a _pawn_, no less!

T-that was a little insulting- and exactly the kind of disrespectful thing Beatrice would expect of Ronove.

"I guess you wouldn't die for me after all," said Beatrice bitterly, glaring down at the chess board with a sourpuss expression on her face. "I feel so jealous of Rillianne. _Her _butler came running to her aid without a second thought!"

"Please keep in mind that was only a story. A work of fiction. Real people aren't nearly so romantic."

Beatrice sighed. "I get it, I get it. Next you'll be telling me Santa doesn't exist either."

"But…" Ronove smiled. "Whilst I might be your furniture, I would like to think I am also your friend. And so, based on that… I suppose I would, if the situation called for it, fight on your behalf. I would not simply back and watch you get hurt."

Beatrice's eyes widened. "Y-you really mean it?"

"Certainly- and I'm not just saying that because you are Milady~ If I had to protect you, I would see you only as 'Beato'- that short-tempered, inelegant child… who is also a very kind person~ Pu ku ku~"

"W-well, I don't know about 'short-tempered' or 'inelegant', y-you completely un-charming, un-proper-"

"Improper."

"_-insulting_ butler!" Beatrice snapped. But, even as she spoke, it was obvious her rebuke was only half-hearted.

She looked down at her hands, bangs falling before her face; trying to hide her obvious happiness.

"But… thank you all the same… Ronove."

"It's my pleasure." Ronove inclined his head slightly. "However, I am afraid I could not protect you in the same way Rillianne's butler did in the play."

"Hoh?~ Why not?"

"Because I would never be able to disguise myself as you."

"Kikikiki~ Well, obviously," said Beatrice, grinning wickedly. "You'll never be as beautiful! And unless I want to be remembered as 'Beatrice the Moustached Witch', I suppose you really should remain you and I should really should remain me~ Kikikiki~"

"Indeed. Life would be far simpler that way." Ronove smiled teasingly. "And yet, despite my loyalty towards you and my desire to keep you safe…"

"Yes? What about it?"

"I'm still not going back on that checkmate."


	57. Heil, honey

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #57: Heil honey

* * *

><p>This was it.<p>

It was finally here.

There was no going back.

George inhaled slowly, trying to calm his shaking nerves. He was a man, wasn't he? He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

George had been so blind before; impossibly arrogant and self-centred, looking down on everybody from the pedestal his well-intentioned, but admittedly overbearing, mother had put him on. He used to look down on his cousins, chiding Jessica and Battler as uneducated and irritating- but he could see now that wasn't true. He'd been jealous of them.

When he thought of his past self, he couldn't help but wince.

But…

George smiled softly.

She made him open his eyes.

She made him a better person.

This was a way of thanking her… and showing just how much he loved her.

Shannon had never looked lovelier. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from surprise, her eyes a little wider than usual, as she focused on the box George proffered to her.

The box with the engagement ring inside.

George couldn't make her accept it, of course… but, if even one tenth of his feelings reached Shannon, he would be happy.

She had to realize how important she was.

She had to realize how much she was loved.

He needed her, just like roses need the rain. Without it they withered and died; He had been afflicted with a horrible plague, too, until she rescued him.

She helped him live.

"Shannon," said George softly. "Shannon, I…"

He stopped. Paused. He'd tried to memorize a moving speech, but the moment he looked into Shannon's eyes the words flew from his mind. His heart beat faster. Panic began to cloud the edges of his mind-

But he couldn't stop now.

"Shannon, I must tell you this… I have to. You may think of yourself as 'unworthy' of my friendship, but that couldn't be further from the truth. No- you see, I… am the one who is unworthy of you. If you can accept these feelings, than please accept my ring."

Another deep breath.

This was the deepest part of his heart, laid bare for Shannon to inspect. He would give her everything if she would give him the honor of returning his love.

She had to know.

"Shannon, I love you. Before I met you my life was governed by my mother. I had no aims other than fulfilling her wishes, and… I-I suppose that made me bitter. But when I saw you… everything changed. Everything. I'm not sure when I realized it, but… But when I look at you, I can't help but wish we could spend the rest of our lives together."

Shannon's blush intensified. Her voice was soft, gentle; quiet as a bird landing in a forest clearing, or the hum of a baby dormouse's heartbeat.

"G-george…"

George smiled. "Yes, Shannon. It's true! When I'm with you I can't stop dreaming about the Führer!"

…There was a very, very long pause.

Shannon's nervous smile shifted to a look of abject horror.

George's face turned bright red.

"I-I'm sorry, Shannon! I didn't mean that! I-I'm not a Nazi! I meant the _future_. Our future. Not… Not Hitler! I don't dream about Hitler!"

George had a vague feeling he was digging himself an even deeper grave.

The silence continued- broken only by the light drizzle pitter-pattering outside the arbor.

…Well.

This was awkward.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I actually really like George/Shannon though :3 I think they're cute. But Geroge seems like the type of person who would get tongue-tied quite easily, especially around Shannon, even though he pretends otherwise XD  
>Also, even though I like the pairing, it doesn't mean I like writing it very much... haha XD<br>Heil honey I'm home (where I took the title of this one from) is an actual real sitcom produced in the 1990s. Its main plot revolved around Hitler trying to murder his Jewish neighbours without them realizing. For some reason, the show was very unpopular and stopped airing after one episode. I wonder why… XDD;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	58. My fair lady

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #58: My fair lady

* * *

><p>"It's nice to see you, Chiester 556~ It's been quite a while since we last spoke. I was worried you'd forgotten about me…"<p>

"I-I would never do that! I apologize if you thought so! My sisters can be quite rowdy, s-so I couldn't see you as early as I wanted- p-please forgive me!" said the flustered Chiester 556, bowing her head. Her rabbit ears fell forwards at the slight movement, and they momentarily obstructed her eyes when she lifted her head again. Her light pink blush growing more pronounced, the clumsy youngest Chiester sister readjusted her ears, squeaking apologies all the while. "I-I'm sorry! I-I must look so undignified, e-especially to somebody like you…"

"No, it is quite alright. Ohoho… It might be cruel of me to say so, but I believe you are more polite than the child I have to teach. She can be quite troublesome."

"S-surely not! M-miss Beatrice looks so refined…"

"Really? Hnn… Then it's nice to see she can act the part of a lady for a few moments to fool others. Ohoho~ Or perhaps you're being overly gracious?"

"N-no! I-I would never lie, I promise!"

"I can see that for myself. I can't imagine furniture of Maria's being deliberately malicious."

"S-she's a very sweet girl!"

"Yes, she is~ So… what brings you here?"

"Well…" Chiester 556 paused. She linked her hands behind her back, scuffing the white floor with the tips of her white boots. Her face was still bright red, though she tried to hide it with her black bangs. "U-um, how should I put this? I-I don't really have the words…"

"That's fine. It's nice to see a young girl so concerned with her manners."

"D-don't praise me so much! I-it's embarrassing! And I think big s- umm, Chiester 00, I-I mean, is getting irritated…" said 556. "S-she says that the younger Chiester sisters don't act in an appropriate manner… S-she says we might embarrass her! B-but I want big sis to be proud of me!"

"A noble goal- although I doubt it's _you _she was aiming that criticism at."

"W-well, regardless, I want to do something to help big sis! S-so, please…" Chiester 556 clapped her hands together, her eyes wide. "Miss Virgilia, please teach me how to be a graceful, elegant lady like you!"

Virgilia's half-lidded eyes widened just a fraction at this request. Nobody had ever asked her anything like that before…

"N-nobody calls me 'graceful' or 'elegant'," said Virgilia.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Gaap did, on occasions, but it was mainly a prelude to 'soo, I've flattered you now give me your stuff' or 'gyahahaha just kidding!~ You're so boring, Lia!'

Virgilia's face flushed slightly. She wasn't used to being praised like this…

"I-I think you're very elegant! The perfect lady! P-please- e-even if it is impossible for an awkward girl of little talent like me… I want to be just like you!"

But, even if she wasn't used to it…

It was nice being wanted.


	59. Nemesis

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #59: Nemesis

* * *

><p>The sweet, nine year old Furudo Erika watched as the scenery flew past her outside the window of the train. The roofs of houses, lines of shops, concrete buildings 'embellished' with graffiti, green, green trees and blue, blue skies studded with clouds went past her in a blur, all accompanied with a faint rattling sound as the train sped across the tracks.<p>

A faint chatter surrounded Erika, overlaid across the noise of the train; groups of people having conversations, talking about shopping or business meetings or other people Erika didn't know. Anger, happiness and idle giggling filled the compartment of the bus. It was… pleasant.

Erika had always liked listening to other people's conversations. Her parents said it was 'rude', but she couldn't help herself. It was interesting, prying into the lives of people she may never meet again. Besides, how could she be a master detective if she didn't have sharp ears? Adults were _sooo _stupid.

However, during this particular train journey Erika was far too preoccupied with the books she'd checked out from the library to care much for the conversation about her, or the scenery she'd seen so many times before.

Erika, being only nine, was not allowed to go out into the big, bustling city by herself- and she certainly wasn't allowed to go on the train without one of her parents! However, Erika knew she was intelligent enough not to get lost, and she really, really wanted to get some more books. She'd already read her old ones! It was an _emergency_.

Life without new reading material was very, very boring for Erika.

Her parents had refused to take her into the library in the city, being too busy with work and like. Erika pouted. They were so selfish! Did they not realize she was a genius? She could easily do it herself!

And so Erika, being a scheming young girl, had decided she wouldn't wait for her parents at all. If you wanted some done right, you had to it yourself. It wasn't the first time she'd gone on the train by herself, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

Filled with a warm sense of accomplishment (she hadn't gotten lost, not at all- it was really, really _easy_, so haaa. Her parents were _stupid_), Erika stared down at the book in her hands. It wasn't a mystery novel, as she often preferred to read, but it was an analysis of the Sherlock Holmes series and characters, and Erika had been dying to get her hands on it.

Erika's dream, ever since the age of five when she first began to read serious novels, had been to meet Sherlock Holmes in real life and shake his hand. She'd always wanted to become entangled in a giant murder mystery with Holmes. Maybe she'd be able to solve it, too! She had a pretty sharp mind.

Smiling at these fantasies (they might still come true, maybe for her birthday?), Erika opened the book and began to read. Of course, Erika knew the series of books so well she probably could have written a better analysis than this certain author, but she liked another person's viewpoint. This author didn't seem _completely _stupid, either.

Well, maybe just a little.

Erika giggled; her laughter hidden by the mixed noises of chatter and the train swirling around her.

However, Erika soon met a… very 'interesting' part of the book.

_H__olmes' sexuality, although not expounded upon greatly in the novels (understandable, for the focus is not romance; save, perhaps for Watson's dubious number of marriages), leaves great room for debate. There is a complex range of interpretations for this character's sexuality; especially in regards to his close friendship with Watson, but aversion for women. Although the classic Sherlockian orthodoxy asserts that __Holmes and Watson are heterosexual, but there may be some room for flexibility. This ambiguity arises mainly due to Holmes, who is eccentric in every visible way in the canon, which suggests he may be sexually unconventional as well._

As Erika read her lips pursed together and her eyes narrowed. Holmes and Watson…? N-no way! It was her dream to be with Holmes, and Watson couldn't _steal _it! He hardly did anything in the whole series, other than being a mouthpiece for the reader! He didn't deserve the attention of a master detective; only Erika did!

It looked like Erika had a new nemesis.

She slammed the offending book closed, eyes filled with fire.

This meant _war._


	60. Forgiveness

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #60: Forgiveness

* * *

><p>Krauss slowly counted to ten in his head as he tried to compose himself. He was a member of the highly esteemed Ushiromiya family, <em>and <em>he was sixteen now; almost an adult. Surely he could take Rudolf's poisonous barbs without flying into a temper by now?

Rudolf wanted him to rise to the challenge. Rudolf wanted him to start shouting, red-faced, until he lost all credibility. That would be a victory for his irritating younger sibling, and Krauss would not allow that to happen.

He was older than Rudolf, he was next in line to be the head of the family, and he was preferred by their father. What was Rudolf?

_Nothing._

Idle taunts spawned from jealousy were easily brushed aside.

"Ah, don't worry, my dearest younger brother," said Krauss, affecting an air of supremacy. He folded his arms, smirking. "Being the better man, I will draw this tedious argument to a close. You may have intended to harm me with your words, but I know, behind your smirking face, lies deep envy for my position."

"Ahh, your mind does work in mysterious ways, _dear brother_," said Rudolf, smirking. "I was insulting you because you're an arrogant asshole- but if you want to live in your fantasy world where everybody's jealous so be it. I wouldn't be cruel enough to shatter your dreams."

Krauss chuckled. "Haha… My, how droll. But I can see your obvious self-loathing behind those words, so I am noble enough to forgive you."

"Hey, it's alright. I forgive you too."

At this casual comment, Krauss' left eye twitched slightly- though he tried to smooth it over with another smile.

"I'm afraid you don't understand, brother. _I _am the one who is forgiving you."

"And I forgive you, too."

"No, it doesn't work like that; **I** am the better man."

"And I forgive you for being deranged enough to believe that."

"I have done nothing I need to be forgiven for!"

"Apart from that sudden burst of anger…?"

Krauss glared at his smirking younger brother. A sudden desire to smack Rudolf's head against the wall welled up in him, so intense it made him shudder.

"Don't undermine my forgiveness! My forgiveness is stronger than yours- for I am the better man, and I will **not **rise to this torment!"

"Aww, don't worry~ Even if you did angry, I'd still forgive you."

Krauss paused, face flushed red with anger.

…And then he stalked off, Rudolf sniggering at his retreating back.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **XD I actually have been an argument like this before. It's pretty difficult trying to take the moral high ground if somebody else is doing the same thing… XP  
>I should probably change the summary of this fic, given it doesn't just revolve around the meta crowd anymore… hmmm :

**~renahhchen xoxoxxx**


	61. Gaap's perfect math class

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #61: Gaap's perfect math class

* * *

><p>"Alright, let's try this again, shall we? Two plus two is…?"<p>

No response.

"Aww, come on! I'm trying to go niiiice and sloowww for you and you can't even get the simple questions right? This is_ easy_! I knew this before I was even created! Two plus two is…?"

Again, no reply.

"Argh, you guys are so **infuriating**! You don't do _anything_- you just sit there with your big round eyes…"

Silence.

"And funny-shaped heads…"

More silence.

"Judging me… Always judging me…"

Still no response.

"Argh! I bet you're laughing at me, aren't you? I bet you think you're _sooo _funny, IGNORING my attempts to hammer some education into your stupid skull! I'm not even getting paid for this! I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart and you're just SITTING THERE, staring… Always staring…"

No reply.

"Fine, have it your way, then! Stay stupid! _**Be **_canon fodder for all I care, without an original thought in your tiny head- but don't say I didn't WARN YOU, you ungrateful brute!"

And with that, Gaap kicked the leg of the table...

"ARGH! Damn, damn, damn!"

…and realized that was a very, very stupid idea.

* * *

><p>"I know it's impolite to pry, but I really must ask… What is Miss Gaao doing?" said Ronove.<p>

He had been watching as Gaap argued with an unresponsive goat-headed butler for a few moments, before she then turned her wrath on the poor table. Now, she was hobbling away in defeat.

"Wasting her time," was Virgilia's reply.

"Hmn… It sounded as if she were trying to teach advanced mathematics to that goat-headed butler…"

"Two plus two is hardly advanced mathematics."

"The difficulty of a question depends on the intelligence of the answerer, however~ When it comes to furniture like that, I'm not so sure… Pu ku ku~" Ronove laughed. "It was nice of Miss Gaap to bother, though."

"I think she's just jealous that Beato will, generally, listen to us, but never listens to her," said Virgilia, smiling. "I think Gaap wants somebody to respect her, too."

"Ah well. That was only one goat butler she attempted to indoctrinate," said Ronove. "Let's be positive. There are millions more of them she could try~"

"Knowing her, she probably will, as well…"


	62. Beans

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #62: Beans

* * *

><p>"Auughh! Why won't they listen to me? I've put my heart and soul into teaching them just a little about the world around us, and all they do to show their appreciation is <em>sit <em>there like ugly stuffed dolls!" Gaap wailed, banging her fist on the kitchen table.

"Mm… This does sound quite serious."

"Am I really that bad at being a cool big sister?"

"I wouldn't know- though you look so tragic, it's heart-breaking… Pu ku ku~"

"And you can stop that too, you stupid brain-head!" Gaap spat, turning to glare at Ronove.

"Brain-head?" Ronove echoed Gaap's bizarre insult with a small smile on his face. "Most people do keep their brains in their head, yes. If that was an insult… it is perhaps one of the strangest ones I have ever heard."

"Oh, go bugger a hedgehog."

"…I stand corrected~ Although I'm not sure that's anatomically possible."

Pouting, sticking her cheeks out like a blowfish (it was strange how worked up Gaap got about such ridiculous things), the blonde demon turned to stab a finger in Ronove's direction.

"Right! If you're so gosh-darned _intelligent _why don't you figure out a way to make these goat people listen to me?"

"Why, certainly~ Are we still on the two plus two stage, or have we advanced even further?"

"…Still on two plus two."

"Perhaps you were too ambitious to begin with. Why don't you take things nice and easy with one plus one?"

"Oh, ha, ha, ha," said Gaap dryly. "Maybe, if I used a visual aid, that would help them understand? Like…"

Gaap reached forwards and picked up a handful of lima beans from a jar in the cupboard. Oooh, but the beans were really cool~ It was nice burying her hands in them~~~

Finally, Gaap selected two beans, and held them up for Ronove's inspection- one in each hand, held between her thumbs and index fingers.

"Right. So I could use these beans to demonstrate! So, if I have one bean, and I add it to this bean, what do I have?"

"…Some beans?"

"Yeah, but what does that _make_?"

"Two beans? Not a lot… A very small casserole?"

"Oh, shut up!" Gaap snapped, throwing the beans to the floor. "Quoting British comedians is really, really lazy, you know? You could at least be original and use your own retorts!"

"Pu ku ku~ I apologize. That was rather cheap of me."

"Yes it was."

"Should I, then, use colourful remarks such as the one you threw at me earlier? 'Go bugger a hedgehog', wasn't it? I'm not sure such vulgarities suit my character…"

Gaap only glared at Ronove. "Oh, do be quiet, Baldrick."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Yeah, this whole scene was totally stolen from  
>http :  / www . youtube . com/watch?v=K71MckOTt1M

One of the more obvious rip-offs in this series… But at least the characters have the decency to admit it was stolen this time XD  
>Although, tbh, Ronove always kinda reminded me of season 3 Blackadder when the character in question was a butler 'with a slightly effeminate hair do', so maybe that's why I like Ronove so much… Hmnn… XD<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	63. Birthday

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #63: Birthday

* * *

><p>"Okay, let me get this straight," said Battler, pushing past Rudolf. "I'm not here to see you. I couldn't give a damn about <em>you<em>. I'm only here to see Ange, 'cause it's her birthday and all. And I guess I don't mind Kyrie, either- but I hate you. I don't even want to look at your face. Are we all clear on that?"

"Ahh, isn't that a little harsh?" asked Rudolf, smirking. "I was going to make a comment about the 'prodigal son returning', and then I was going to clutch you to my bosom with tear-filled eyes, just like something from a Hollywood movie! I feel cheated out of a happy reunion with my son~"

"Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," said Battler dryly, glaring at his father. "You kind of lost any right to a 'happy reunion' after you pissed over the memory of mom by getting remarried so soon. Not that it's Kyrie's fault... I guess you're just a despicable human being, that's all."

"I guess so. Hm~ But I wonder who has my 'despicable' blood running through their body?~"

"Shut up."

Battler didn't want to be back at his old house at all. If it weren't for Ange, he wouldn't have bothered- he'd have stayed with his grandparents. Battler simply couldn't break his promise with Ange, though, regardless of how much he hated Rudolf. Battler loved his little sister- he loved her with all his heart- and, even though she'd been born from a relationship Battler didn't approve of, he couldn't deny the fact that Ange was a sweet girl. Maybe Battler could have accepted Rudolf's remarriage to Kyrie more easily if Rudolf hadn't been so… so… so fucking _blasé_ about the whole thing.

He acted like he didn't even care Asumu was dead- and that enraged Battler more than anything.

He acted… like it didn't matter.

She was his _wife_, wasn't she? Or… did that really not matter to Rudolf?

Ange certainly didn't get her sweet nature and innocence from her father.

Battler didn't want to look at Rudolf; he hardly wanted to be reminded he shared his genes. The fact Battler was beginning to look just a little like his 'dear father' as he grew older was irritating, too.

"I'm just here for Ange's birthday," Battler stated again, folding his arms. "That's all. I don't want to disappoint her."

Rudolf's smirk didn't disappear. "Well, you of all people would know how important birthdays are to young children, wouldn't you?"

"W-what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing~" said Rudolf lightly, in a tone that suggested it _was_ something. "Why don't we curtail this cosy catch-up and go find Ange? You wouldn't want to miss singing 'happy birthday' to her, would you?"

"Hey, wait, hold on a second!"

Fuelled with anger (that old bastard had a way of getting under Battler's skin, just like a venomous spider), Battler's fingers curled round Rudolf's shoulder. Battler was taller since he'd last seen Rudolf, and a lot stronger than last year, too. Rudolf himself looked surprised at the force Battler used to hold him in place.

"What was with that snide comment you were making?" Battler asked, voice dangerously low. "I want to know."

"Ahh, it's nothing, nothing~" said Rudolf lightly. The faint flicker of shock had faded from his face; instead, he was smiling. "Merely… I remember, a few days before _your_ fifth birthday, you became convinced the moon was your best friend."

Battler blinked.

Then, he did a double take.

"…Wait, what?"

"Yes. It was very touching. You used to go out into the garden at night to talk to it. Ihihi~ But you always _were_ a weird kid."

"W-what does this have to do with anything, you old bastard?"

"You tried to invite the moon to your birthday party, don't you remember? He was going to be your honoured guest. You waited all day for the moon to show up, but he never did…" Rudolf laughed. "And then, when the moon finally came out at night, you shouted that you 'hated it' and 'never wanted to see it again' because it had 'betrayed you'. Then you tried to throw a sausage roll at it. It was very cute, in a stupid sort of way. I think there are photographs~ I guess you wouldn't want to put Ange through that kind of trauma if you didn't show up for her birthday, ihihi~"

The tips of Battler's ears turned red in embarrassment; a nice match with his hair. Now it looked like his head was on fire. Why did Rudolf always have to dredge up old stories just to embarrass him…? I-it wasn't fair- Battler had no idea what to say in response!

"Y-you _bastard_."

Rudolf smirked. "Now, now, Battler. This is a children's party. You shouldn't use language like that~"

"Oh, fu- _frig off_."

Rudolf laughed, patting his son on the head.

"Ahh, I see I can still train you yet~ You haven't completely lost your respect for your old man, have you?"

Battler only growled in response.


	64. Click, zoom, swish

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #64: Click, zoom, swish

* * *

><p>"Excuse me… u-um, are you… a-are you…"<p>

_Becoming vastly annoyed by these constant interruptions? Why, yes I am._

"I-I mean, um… A-are you…"

_And all I wanted to do was buy a bottle of milk for Diana.__ It's funny how life turns out._

"Um… You, um… you…"

_Well… not so much 'funny' as really, really irritating._

"Ahaha, well… W-what I mean to say is…"

_Oh, hurry up and spit it out already. You're trying my patience._

"Um…"

_Just like the fifteen other blushing, stuttering fans I've had to fend off in the past five minutes._

"W-what I mean is, a-are you… Are you Wizard Hunting Wright?"

_So, we finally got there. Hallelujah._

_Maybe miracles do exist after all._

"Yes, that's me," said Will, trying to keep his voice calm. It wouldn't do his reputation any good if he started snapping at his fans… Although, that might have convinced them to leave him alone. "I suppose you want an autograph, or something similar?"

Will wasn't trying to be arrogant- he really wasn't. It was just, most of his fans had asked for autographs (and, in one disturbing case, his underwear), and he'd grown to expect it.

…Or maybe that _was_ arrogance and he hadn't realized it.

"Y-yes please! I-I would like an autograph, r-really!"

"…Alright. Fine."

_May__be I should start carrying autographs round with me in bulk. Then I wouldn't have to spend so long listening to these people talking about themselves whilst I write my name on old serviettes that have been crumpled up in their pockets for the past five years._

_Or, failing that, I could just try ignoring them…_

_That would be rude, though, wouldn't it?_

"A-ah! Thank you, Willard!" squealed his red-faced fan, bowing whilst accepting the signed serviette back. "I'll never forget this moment! I-I love you!"

"…Thanks?"

Will sighed in relief as his fan pottered off, holding the serviette so tightly that, if it had a voice, it would've been screaming in pain.

Hopefully Will could go and get his milk now, before Diana got all grumpy and scratched him when he returned home.

He was nearly at the door of the shop…

Almost there…

Just-

"H-hey, a-are you Wizard Hunting Wright? Can I have a quick word?"

Will eyes narrowed.

His shoulders tensed.

Then, he turned around and smiled.

It was a very cold, very frosty smile.

"Yes. You can," said Will. "Click. Zoom. Swish. Those are all quick words. Now leave me alone."

Manners would only get you so far in life before you felt like tearing somebody's face off, after all.


	65. Sick and sour

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #65: Sick and sour

* * *

><p>"Hey, Sakutaro, what do you want to eat?~"<p>

"R-rosa will get mad if you buy food you don't need… uryu… I don't need anything, Maria!"

"That's silly! You might be a stuffed lion but I'm not leaving you out~ You'll eat dinner with me," said Maria. Smiling brightly, Maria plucked Sakutaro from her open backpack and squeezed him to her chest, holding on tightly. "Mama will understand!"

"A-are you sure? I don't want you to get into trouble…"

"Uu!~ It'll be fine!~"

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Hehe~ You're such a worry guts, Sakutaro!~"

Maria giggled to herself as she looked around the convenience store. To an adult the shop was fairly small and simply laid out; certainly nothing exciting. However, to Maria it was almost like a palace! There was so much _stuff_ everywhere, so much food in tins or plastic wrapping, and everything looked so tasty!~ The numerous aisles stocked ceiling-high with bottles and bright colorsmade Maria think of a cave- a real world of Aladdin's treasures!

It was so much fun when mama let her go shopping by herself! Of course, Mama said she shouldn't bring Sakutaro… but Maria could hardly leave her best friend alone at home! Mama was nice, so she wouldn't mind really…

"Ooh, what about this?" said Maria, looking at a pot of yoghurt on a shelf. "It's not as expensive as the other ones…"

"…Maria, it's a week out of date! Is it safe to eat?"

"Well, 'cause it's old it's cheap!" said Maria brightly. "It's so cheap mama won't even know I've bought it!~ Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I-I guess…" said Sakutaro hesitantly. "I-it's just-"

"Uuu? What is it? Don't you like strawberry yoghurt?"

"N-no, I do… I just don't want to get sick…"

"Oh, don't be silly," said Maria brightly, shuffling Sakutaro around in her arms so she could drop the pot of yoghurt into her shopping basket. "You're a stuffed toy, Sakutaro~ You can't be sick!"

"O-okay then… uryu…"

* * *

><p>"Kyah! I'm sorry, Sakutaro!" Maria wailed, as she mopped at the floor with a piece of tissue. "I didn't know you could really get sick from that old yoghurt!"<p>

Sakutaro could only moan sadly, as another piece of soft, squishy stuffing fell out of his mouth.


	66. Asmo's amazing news

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #66: Asmo's amazing news

* * *

><p>It was a fairly normal day in the meta world. Virgilia, Gaap and Beatrice were sat around a table having a pleasant conversation (okay, maybe <em>that<em> wasn't so normal), whilst Ronove poured Virgilia some more tea.

All was quiet.

All was fine.

All was well.

And, of course, given the setting was so serene, there _had_ to be an ominous 'until…' tacked onto the end.

"Hey, guys! I have the most **amazing** news!"

With that loud announcement Asmodeus teleported into the midst of the happy tea party, appearing in an explosion of golden butterflies and bouncing pigtails.

That butterfly transportation technique was still shocking enough to make most witches or demons, no matter how composed, jump. There was just no warning for it- and whilst one was drinking hot tea, jumping in surprise was never a good thing.

At least Beatrice's tea had only spilt onto the table top, not her dress.

Then there would have been hell to pay.

"What is it?" asked Beatrice irritably, glaring at the blonde stake. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing~ If my presence bothers you, Milady, I won't say a word, even if I do have something rather incredibubble to tell you~ Fufufu~"

"Don't talk to me like that, you're my furniture! You _have _to tell me every single little insignificant thought that rattles around in your tiny raisin-sized brain, it's your **duty**."

"My brain is _not _the size of a raisin!"

"No, surely not," said Gaap, snickering. "I'd say a fig at the very least."

Asmodeus' face flushed light pink. "W-why you-"

"Ah… Asmodeus, I'm very interested to hear what you have to say," said Virgilia, smiling her pleasant, sleepy smile. "I have no doubts it must be important."

"Indeed~ I believe Milady's temper will take a turn for the worse if you don't enlighten her on your 'amazing news'. Milady was never one to wait, pu ku ku."

"Yes, that child can be quite the handful, can't she? Ohoho~"

"Gah. What do you know?" Beatrice said, glaring at Ronove and Virgilia. "I can wait as well as the next person! I'm just **saying**, I'm **entitled** to hear what my own furniture has to say! It's really unfair and annoying when people say 'guess what' and then never tell you what you were meant to be guessing! It makes the 'guess what' completely _pointless_!"

"Ooh, have I found a new way to annoy you, Riiche?"

"You try and I'll stick my fist down your throat."

"Mm… That's not particularly becoming of a lady such as yourself."

"…Aha~ I suppose that child never changes, does she?"

"Muu…" Beatrice pouted. "A-at least I'm still young and youthful, unlike you guys."

"Hey! I'm still young at heart, Riiche! An old woman couldn't pull this look off!"

"Any woman with an ounce of common sense, old or young, wouldn't even _try_," Beatrice retorted.

Gaap stuck out her tongue.

Beatrice stuck out her own tongue back.

"H-hey, why aren't you paying attention to me?" Asmodeus asked, voice scandalized, as she stomped a foot on the ground. "I wanted to tell you something really amazing!"

Hesitantly, Beatrice turned away from Gaap and fixed her gaze on Asmodeus. "What is it, thennnn, furnitureee?"

"W-well, the news is… quite simply… Hehe~" Asmodeus giggled, clapping her hands to her chest. Then- her luminous smile so bright one could almost see little love hearts circling around her head- Asmodeus threw her arms akimbo and exclaimed, "I'm pregnant!"

Virgilia promptly spat tea down herself and nearly fell of her chair. She would've done, too, had Ronove not steadied her.

Then, Beatrice said, her eyes cold and frosty, "…That's a lie, isn't it?"

A pause.

Then, Asmodeus rubbed the back of her head and giggled sheepishly.

"Hehe~ Oh, was it really that obvious? Yeah, that was a lie. Oooh, it would be really _romantic_ if that did happen, though, wouldn't it?"

Gaap began to snigger. "_Ha_. You go and spend nine months getting fat and irritable, throwing up every morning and developing a strange craving for pickles, and _then_ spend hours agonizingly trying to push a hideously ugly baby with a huge head out of a waaaayyy too-small space, and the baby won't thank you or anything, it just screams. It doesn't sound so romantic **now**, does it?"

Asmodeus pouted.

"Well, you don't have to be so _mean_. You could at least pretend to be happy for my baby."

"You're not having a baby," said Beatrice.

"Yes, but if I was-"

"Oh, do shut up."


	67. Shannon and the seagull

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #67: Shannon and the seagull

* * *

><p>"Hey, stop! Thief! Give that back!"<p>

There was no reply.

Well, of course there was no reply. Seagulls were not typically well-versed in the subtleties of the human language. Moreover, even if the seagull Shannon was chasing _could _talk (which it couldn't), it wouldn't have been able to open its beak without dropping her hat.

"T-this isn't funny!" Shannon said, her voice rising into a panicked hysteria as she stared up at the seagull. "M-miss Natsuhi will get angry with me… Y-you have to give it back!"

Of course, the seagull did no such thing.

Shannon hadn't thought for one second it would.

…Maybe reasoning with it was completely futile after all.

"Big sister, I have been watching you for some time, and I must ask… What are you doing?"

Shannon turned around in alarm, her face bright red- very nearly bumping her head against Kanon's. Shannon hadn't noticed him walking towards her… mainly because she'd been too busy trying to negotiate with the stupid thieving seagull.

"O-oh, Kanon… Um, hello."

"…Are you alright?"

"Y-yes! Yes, I'm fine!"

"So… shouting at birds is something you do for fun?"

"U-um…" Shannon looked down at the floor, anxiously toying with the hem of her skirt. "D-don't tell Miss Natsuhi what happened, please?"

"I think she'll notice without me telling her, given you're missing a part of your uniform," said Kanon. He sighed. "How did that happen?"

"W-well, I was just walking along the beach because I had a few minutes to myself and it was really warm and bright and pretty… A-and then I saw this seagull, and it looked really sad-"

"It looked_ sad_."

"Y-yes! I-is that weird…?"

"…No. That's what I'd expect from you."

"Um, so I thought the seagull might be lost or lonely, s-so I walked up to it, and I was going to… I-I don't know, try and console it-"

"There is such a thing as being too kind, big sister."

There is also such a thing as 'being an airhead', but Kanon didn't want to say something so unnecessarily cruel. Shannon was aware of her mistake already; he didn't want to make it worse.

"Yes, well looking back on it now, it might not have been such a good idea…"

"The seagull stole your hat when you approached it, didn't it?"

"Y-yes… Oh, this is horrible," said Shannon softly, eyes downcast. "Why do these things always happen to me?"

Kanon sighed.

"I think there's a very good reason this only happens to you, big sister. A very good reason indeed…"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **In case you were wondering, these shorts are all set before the game between Beato and Battler begins, or a long time afterwards. The ones set after will mostly feature human characters, not the meta characters. This means there won't be much, or even any, Battler/Beatrice interaction. Mainly because there are enough stories with those two already and I'm not really interested in writing them together XD  
>Oh, &amp; to Fan of Games, I am working on that series of stories with Belphegor very, very slowly... XD I have two parts out of five finished ^_^<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	68. Getting to know you

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #68: Getting to know you

* * *

><p>"So… Hello?"<p>

"Hi!" said Mammon brightly, trying to compensate for Ange's small frown with the largest smile known to man (and magical) kind.

Ange looked down at her lap, fingers tangling together, as she tried to think of something to say. She'd never really spoken to any of the girls at her school before. The only person she was 'close' to was Amakusa, really, and she only saw him when she had to make visits to see Eva or Okonogi and needed a bodyguard. Ange… wasn't really sure how to start this conversation…

Maybe, if she'd had a normal high school life, with a loving family and a circle of friends, this would have been easy. Talking shouldn't have been so difficult. Most people didn't find it difficult, did they?

But, then again, if Ange and her life were both 'normal' she life wouldn't have been able to summon Mammon at all.

This was Ange's first time trying to converse with the stake of purgatory and, even though she didn't want to admit it, she was completely lost.

Maybe being alone was easier after all.

"Aren't you going to say anything?~" Mammon prompted, still smiling. "Something like 'I'm so glad to see you!' or 'let's work well together!' or 'do you want to be my friend?' Any of those would be good starting points!"

"Well…"

"Having a friend is better than having furniture, right? I mean, if I'm going to stay simply being furniture and nothing more, you might as well try talking to the table." Giggling, Mammon leant forwards, under the pretence she was whispering a great secret into Ange's ear; "And just between you and me, I don't think the table has a lot to say… Not that I want to hurt its feelings~ Fufufu…"

Ange moved away from Mammon instinctively, bringing her knees under her chin in a protective gesture.

"I was always under the impression people needed to talk to one another first before they decided they were 'friends'," said Ange coldly.

Mammon didn't seem offended at all, however.

"Aha, that's right!~ You're very astute! Alright, let's see… What's your favourite color?"

Ange paused, wondering whether this was a trick question of some kind. After a while, however, she finally answered, "…Blue."

"I like blue, too! Wow, that's incredible! What a coincidence! Oh, and guess what, guess what?"

"…What?"

Eyes shining, Mammon clapped a hand on her chest and proudly declared, "Why, _I_ need to breathe air and drink water and eat food to live too, just like you! We have so much in common! Let's be friends!"

Ange tried to retain her small, untrusting frown, but… it was almost impossible.

She couldn't help but smile.


	69. Like I killed the dinosaurs

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #69: Like I killed the dinosaurs

* * *

><p>"Hey, George!~ Georgeee! Georgeee!"<p>

George turned about when he felt hands on his clothes; tugging at them insistently, in a manner no adult would ever have done.

Little children really were so innocent. Jessica and Battler's happy faces and cheery innocence was completely different from the tense atmosphere that surrounded George's aunts and uncles whenever a family conference (i.e. an argument about the distribution of Kinzo's gold) rolled around.

George was only fourteen, with a five year age gap between his other cousins, but he couldn't help but feel like a real adult.

Jessica and Battler were still children.

Maybe there was a faint sense of superiority there but, mostly, George just felt strange. It was as if he belonged in a different world to his cousins- and maybe, given they were still in primary school (an age where they could throw paint at other people in art class and struggle through multiplication tables as though they were actually difficult), he did.

"Hey, if it isn't my favourite cousins~" said George, smiling, as he bent down to ruffle Jessica's hair. "What's wrong?"

Jessica and Battler were both clamouring for George's attention, looking up at him with awe in their eyes.

"W-we heard-"

"Aunt Eva was telling us-"

"She said-"

"Soooo cool!"

"That you and her-"

Speaking in unison, Battler and Jessica declared, "You do martial arts!"

"Aha…" George laughed sheepishly. "Well, yes… I only took it up recently." He smiled as he flexed his (non-existent) muscles. "Can you tell?"

"Woowww…" Jessica's eyes widened. "That's cool! You're so cool!"

"Do you think you could beat up my dad in a fight?" Battler asked seriously.

"Aha… Well, I don't know… I-I wouldn't really want to…"

"What about my dad?"

"Well…"

"Could you take down Godzilla?"

"Godzilla is a fictional character so-"

"Could you wrestle a shark?"

"U-um…"

"Aunt Eva said you could kill a man with a single touch! Can you do that? Can you, can you?"

"There's a girl at school I don't like. She says my name is stupid," said Battler, pouting. "Can you kill her?"

"Your name _is_ stupid, stupid. I don't blame her for telling the truth!"

"Hey, Jessica's being mean!" Battler grabbed hold of Jessica's shoulders, pushing her in front of George. "Can you kill her?"

"Ahaha…" George laughed awkwardly, trying to pull Jessica and Battler apart before they really _did_ kill each other. "You shouldn't resort to violence, you know?"

"But Aunt Eva said you took down a megalosaurus with your bare hands!"

…_What on earth has my mother been saying to them, exactly…?_


	70. Everyone loves a glasses girl

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #70: Everyone loves a glasses girl

* * *

><p>"You know, that whole 'I'm an angsty heroine saving the world, an army of one, look at me and I'll cut you, I have no emotions' look is kind of out-dated."<p>

…Was that a whole 'look', really?

Dlanor didn't know; but she _did _know the full name of that 'look' was quite a mouthful she didn't want to try and repeat.

"Excuse ME?"

Dlanor looked at Gaap, the demon of portals (and bad fashion, though that wasn't part of her official title), sceptically. Dlanor had been waiting in the circular, white expanse of meta world where she occasionally had tea with Virgilia, but the silver-haired witch hadn't arrived yet. Gaap had come to greet her instead, explaining Virgilia was washing her hair and 'given how loonggg it is, that could take, like, all day, fufufu. She always complains about that, so why doesn't she get it cut?'

"Your _look_- or style, rather. It's all about the clothes you wear, the way you style your hair, the tone of your skin, the expressions on your face and your personality," Gaap explained, tugging on one of Dlanor's lavender curls. "Your emotionless zombie-girl style was in fashion a while ago, but now you're out-dated. Nobody will take you seriously unless you update your image!"

"I wasn't aware clothes were particularly IMPORTANT," said Dlanor curiously. "Most of the witches and demons I trial are too preoccupied with my sword to comment on my OUTFIT."

"That's just what you think. Clothes are very important! They create a good first impression, yadda yadda. I love the Eiserne Jungfrau uniforms, you know, but you're the leader- you should try to look a little more… um… Imposing? You need to stand out more!"

"And how would I do THAT?"

Gaap pondered, her finger and thumb under her chin, as she circled Dlanor slowly. It reminded Dlanor a little of a vulture circling a dead carcass. Occasionally Gaap would make small 'hm' and 'ahh' noises and- somehow- it made the great, unshakable Dlanor A. Knox feel just a little confused.

Finally, Gaap drew back, a wide smile on her face.

"Well? What's your VERDICT?"

Gaap beamed.

Then, she stabbed a finger at Dlanor, a red-painted talon very nearly driving itself into her eye.

"I have the perfect idea! Just wait- you're going to look incredible!"

Dlanor had a very bad feeling about this… but wouldn't it be rude to accept the help of Miss Virgilia's friend? Gertrude always told her to be polite, and decapitating Gaap wouldn't be very polite at all. Such manners were frowned upon by most societies.

…It looked like Dlanor would have to grin and bear it.

Or blink expressionlessly and bear it.

Both worked.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Dlanor," said Gertrude pleasantly, as she greeted the young Archbishop in her office the following morning. "Let it be known that I was looking at our reports on our latest case, and I think we may need to dispatch a few first class priests to deal with issue- perhaps on Tuesday? I don't want to seem too imposing, but I don't want the issue to get out of hand, either…"<p>

Dlanor nodded. "Tuesday sounds FINE."

"Oh, and Dlanor," said Gertrude, pausing by the door of the young girl's office, "I didn't know you needed glasses."

"I DON'T."

Gertrude was confused for a few moments- before she decided it didn't really matter. Moreover, it wasn't professional to be confused.

"Well, at any rate… they look very nice on you."

"Thank YOU."

As Gertrude left her office, Dlanor allowed herself a small, secret smile- or a slight quirk of the lips that could have indicated 'amusement' but could also have indicated stomach pains or sadness, which was the closest Dlanor ever got to smiling when she wasn't sentencing somebody.

Huh.

Maybe that weird demon had been right after all.


	71. Birds of a feather suffer together

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #71: Birds of a feather suffer together

* * *

><p>"L-let it be known that I can do it! I-I won't run away from my adversaries in fear… I will face them head-on! Yes… T-that is the only way I can become stronger!"<p>

Cornelia, a lowly third class priest with a chip on her shoulder, stared down unblinkingly with wide eyes. The black cat she'd found in the alley way stared back up at her.

Cornelia had never particularly liked cats. They always attacked her, for some unknown reason. Perhaps Dlanor's innocent assumption that her fingers smelt of fish hadn't been too farfetched after all. It was hard to explain how Cornelia felt around cats, and she hardly understood this irrational fear herself- but every time she saw a twitching tail or soft paws, accompanied by a small 'mreow', she felt herself freeze up. Cornelia wasn't afraid of demons or witches… but she hated cats. And cats hated her.

However, enough was enough! She had to get over this debilitating fear. She couldn't let it cripple her! Cornelia didn't want to disgrace the name of Eiserne Jungfrau with such a ridiculous phobia!

There was nothing to be afraid of.

That was why Cornelia found herself wandering round an alleyway in the human world- and that was why she was now staring, eye-to-eye, with a black cat.

It's tailed swished.

"_Mreow~"_

Cornelia's heart thumped in her chest.

"I-I can do it… T-there's nothing to be frightened of!"

And with that, Cornelia bent forwards-

"_Mreow_!"

-and put her hand forwards-

"_Mreow..?"_

-and got a little closer-

**Chomp.**

"E-eek! Owowowowow!"

-and squeaked in pain as a pair of sharp teeth dug into her flesh.

S-she couldn't run away, though…! She had to keep going! She had to persevere despite the pain! Trying to bite back a whimper, Cornelia used her free hand to- slowly, fingers wracked with small spasms- pet the bite-happy cat on the back.

The reward wasn't really worth the pain.

* * *

><p>But Cornelia wasn't the only one in that alley. A rather tall third year girl from the nearby high school had found her, cowering on the floor, trying to pet the bad tempered cat despite the teeth digging into her fingers.<p>

Sakaki could only watch, hands clasped at her front, her eyes widening slightly with respect.

_A-at least there are other people like me in this world! I'm not alone! I'm not the only one they hate!_

_That girl's efforts should be applauded…_

_She must really love cats!_

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Yay crossover :D  
>I think Cornelia is the kind of person who would try to overcome her fears by walking head-first into them… Her character bio does call her 'hot-blooded' XD Given Cornelia's letters in the TIPs, though, I kind of assume she's a super-serious person who tries her best… but maybe her best isn't good enough XD<p> 


	72. You sunk my battleship!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #72: You sunk my battleship!

* * *

><p>"Damn it! I can't believe you did that!"<p>

"Please don't take it so seriously. It's not like I hold a grudge against you- I'm merely adhering to the rules of the game."

"I know, I know, but… man, you're good at this," Gaap muttered darkly, pushing pins down into her battleship board. She only had part of_ one_ ship left now, whilst Virgilia still had three. That wasn't fair at all!

Alright, she had to calm down. She could still win. Gaap was renowned for being able to get out of difficult situations (granted, that was usually with her mad portal skills, but still). This was going to be a piece of cake!

"Okay, let's see… Um… E6?"

"I'm sorry," said Virgilia. Irritatingly enough, she sounded genuinely upset for Gaap and her protracted string of failures. "I'm afraid that's not one either."

"_Damn_."

"Okay, um… let's see… C3?"

Gaap's left eye twitched as the final piece of her one remaining ship was destroyed- _decimated_ by Virgilia's soft, 'I-hope-this-doesn't-bother-you', incredibly polite voice. I-it was like she was being defeated by good manners!

"Gaap?" asked Virgilia worriedly, tilting her head to one side. "Are you alright?"

It was at that moment, whilst Gaap had her fists clenched together and eyes narrowed in the face of her third loss, that Ronove decided to teleport into the room.

It was incredibly bad timing on his part.

"Ah~ I see you're still playing battleships. If I may ask, who's winning?"

That simple question was enough to tip Gaap over the edge. With an enraged shout of "she sunk my battleship! _Again_!", Gaap picked up the board and launched it across the room-

Directly at Ronove's face.

The crunching sound it made upon impact was very satisfying indeed.

* * *

><p>"So," Ronove said, wincing slightly as he pressed an icepack against his split lower lip, "if you were angry at Miss Virgilia for her constant victories, why did you attack me?"<p>

Gaap shrugged. "I don't really know. I think I would've just felt _mean_ hurting Lia when she obviously didn't intend to piss me off- and, well…" She smiled sweetly. "You're more fun to hit."

"I feel flattered."


	73. Something wicked this way comes

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #73: Something wicked this way comes

* * *

><p>"Yasu, you've made this mistake so many times! At first I assumed it was because you're young and you don't understand the correct procedures, but you should have learnt it by now!" said Ruon angrily, hands on her hips.<p>

"She's always losing her keys; one would think, after the third or forth time, she would have remembered not to leave them lying around. It makes the rest of us look bad."

"Haha~ You said it, Reinon. I can't believe anybody would be that stupid!"

"If Miss Natsuhi scolds us because of you I'll be very, very angry! Do you _enjoy_ making us look incompetent, you useless girl?" Sanon shouted.

"W-wait, y-you don't think Miss Natsuhi will scold us, will you? T-that's not fair! I-I'm scared… W-wahhhh!"

"Stop crying, Renon. It's unsightly for a maid. Yasu's continuous follies are hardly our fault."

Yasu's face flushed bright red as she looked between the four angry maids; Ruon, Renon, Sanon and Reinon. She didn't mean to lose her keys all the time- i-it wasn't like she wanted the others to be angry with her! She tried her best…

H-her best just wasn't good enough.

"I'm sorry, r-really…" said Yasu, her eyes beading with tears whilst her fingers clutched at the hem of her dress. "I-I didn't mean to… T-things just disappear when I set them down- i-it's almost like… like… magic…" She murmured the last part in embarrassment, knowing how childish she sounded.

Reinon- always the most hard-working maid- sighed. "What you call 'magic' other people would call 'carelessness'. And I can't abide careless people."

"I-I swear, I do my best, i-it's just-"

"That the witch of the forest enjoys playing games. Ohoho~"

The four maids who had been scolding Yasu turned about in confusion. There, in the threshold of the kitchen, was Kumasawa, a small smile on her face.

Ruon- the oldest of the maids- narrowed her eyes. "I appreciate that you're trying to defend Yasu, Kumasawa, but she won't learn from her mistakes if you go along with her childish stories! We're merely trying to help."

"My, my… Being lectured by a young girl at my age… I thought those days were behind me when my children grew up. My, how sad… Ohohoho~" Kumasawa laughed to herself, shaking her head.

Ruon looked just a little embarrassed at this. She bowed her head. "N-no, I wasn't trying to rude… I apologize."

"You're a well-intentioned girl, Ruon," said Kumasawa, smiling gently. "I'm sure you and your sisters were trying to help Yasu. However, there are some things on this island common sense doesn't apply to… Ohoho~ I'm sure you've heard the old stories about this island, back when it was a home for demons, fufufu~ They say the wind blows colder here, and any number of strange events can occur… A young girl losing her keys is only the tip of the iceberg."

At Kumasawa's words, the four maids began to shiver slightly- even Reinon. Although none of the maids believed in 'magic' or 'demons', Kumasawa's emotive voice was enough to make them doubt, just a little…

"But those are only old stories to frighten children, surely," said Reinon, trying to dispel her doubts. "Yasu was clumsy and lost her keys. That's all."

"Well, maybe… What a sensible young girl you are. But there might be more to Rokkenjima than first meets the eye. Why else do you think that shrine was constructed by this island? How did the rumor of the witch in white begin? Why do shudder in fear at the thought of entering the forest? Perhaps there is nothing there… But, as a precaution, maybe you shouldn't scorn magic so freely. Your words might just happen to be overheard… by some very unpleasant creatures… Ohohoho…"

Kumasawa's words hung in the air; silence enveloping the room. The four maids began to shiver. Was it just them, or did it feel colder in the kitchen? And Kumasawa's smile was… slightly disturbing…

M-maybe they wouldn't be so quick to call Yasu 'ridiculous' next time, just to be safe.

Meanwhile, as the four maids began talk quietly amongst themselves, Kumasawa turned and gave Yasu a small wink.

Yasu smiled.

She didn't know what she'd do without Kumasawa helping her like that.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So, I really like the maids of purgatory… and I like Kumasawa & Yasu's mother-daughter thing too :D Nobody writes about Kumasawa XD It's because she's old and you're all ageist isn't it? XDD

Still workin' on Fan of Games' request too… Don't think I forgot about it ^_^;


	74. Pink spider

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #74: Pink spider

* * *

><p>"Miss Ange, what's wrong?" asked Mammon tentatively, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder.<p>

Ange shied away from the touch. She was breathing heavily, lips parted, body tense like a loaded spring. It looked as though she was going to snap at any second.

Mammon began to get worried. The worry manifested itself as an uncomfortable, fluttering feeling in her stomach- just like the wings of a thousand golden butterflies.

Mammon… wasn't used to being concerned about people. It was an alien emotion, but she'd been experiencing it more and more when she was around Ange- a-and… it upset her.

She didn't know what to do.

"Ange…?"

"I hate them…" Ange muttered under her breath, fingers clenching and unclenching over and over again. "Hate them… I wish they'd _die_."

"Miss Ange!" Mammon cried, now moving forwards to take hold of Ange's shoulders. She didn't care if it was 'inappropriate' behaviour or not; she had to cheer Ange up! It… _hurt_… to see her so unhappy. "Miss Ange, please calm down. Please. I'm here and… and it'll be okay…?"

"How will it?" Ange countered, anger now rippling through her voice. "How will it be _okay_? Those girls push me around all the time- you've seen it for yourself, and I just can't take it anymore! I can't! I-I… Why don't you _do _something to help?"

"They can't see me."

"And I'm the only one who can. Like… an invisible friend. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just insane…"

Sadness soon overtook Ange's anger. Sniffing, she directed her gaze at the floor. Most of her face was hidden by her bangs, but… she might have been crying.

"H-ha… A-ah…"

There was no 'might' about it.

She was _definitely _crying.

Mammon needed to say something. Something comforting. She wasn't very good at being 'comforting' (that was Virgilia's forte), but she had to try. She'd… give it a go.

She'd do anything for Ange.

"Ange," said Mammon softly, trying to copy the comforting tone of voice used by Virgilia, "have you heard the story of the…" Mammon's eyes snagged on Ange's pink hair ties, "…pink… spider?"

"H-huh?" Ange sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She looked a little embarrassed. "N-no, I haven't. Is it a story known by demons?"

"U-um, yeah!" Mammon lied, nodding. She didn't want Ange to know she'd just made it up on the spot in a fit of panic; that might lessen its credibility. "Ah, let's see… Once upon a time there was a pink spider, and it was very sad because all the other spiders made fun of it. The pink spider was different from the other spiders because it was… um… pink, aha, and the others spiders were black. The pink spider felt very sad and out of place because everybody bullied it. But the pink spider um… um…"

"Grew up into a beautiful swan?" Ange suggested, voice laden with cynicism- but her lips twitched into a small smile all the same.

"Haha… W-well, um, something like that," Mammon finished. "The story has a happy ending, I think."

"Haha… You think?"

"In the end the pink spider left all the mean ones and went to explore the world, and everybody loved it because it was different! That's how it goes! And then after it was accepted it had a happy ending! Yay! …Yay?"

There was a pause.

Then… Ange began to giggle.

In a few split seconds, Mammon was laughing, too.


	75. EXTRA: Letters from Lia, Gaap & Ronove

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #75: Letters from Virgilia, Gaap & Ronove

* * *

><p>Good morning, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em> (or evening, depending on when you receive this message, I suppose).

My name is Publius Maro Virgilia, but you may call me Virgilia. I have been reading this collection of short stories written by yours truly, and I must say, they are rather decently written. Do you aspire to be an author at all? Perhaps, if that is the case, you should talk to Miss Featherine. Ah, I hear she can be quite cruel at times, though- even worse than that young child. It may be unfair to base my opinion of her solely on hearsay, but perhaps you shouldn't talk to her after all…

Now, where was I?

Oh yes… I did enjoy your stories. They are a fine way to pass the time. When one has lived as long as I, you soon find there is a lot of time to pass, ohoho~ However, I feel... and may be an immature complaint, but… maybe you don't like me very much? You always place me in embarrassing situations- and I realize this is a work of fiction, and in no way representative of the truth, but…

I-I'm sorry, but I find that a little hurtful.

Am I being too harsh?

Obviously my opinion is biased, but still…

I don't want to hurt your feelings, but… I'm a little bit unhappy at how I am portrayed- or at least, how others react to me. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you please try to rectify this? I don't want to sound like I am complaining or finding faults, but… Well…

Moreover, I am friends with Miss Gaap, and she would never be so disrespectful to me (I hope…) Or maybe I am deluding myself.

_Sigh._

Thank you for your time.

Yours sincerely

Virgilia

* * *

><p>Hey, <em>Renahh!<em>

So, I found about this collection of stories one way or another (don't question it. In the words of Will, it'll only give you headache- ahahaha… that smug bastard) and I really like them! They're funny~ Funny is always good!~~ It makes the world a better place.

Also, you seem to write about me a lot! HELL YEAH!~ That's great!~ AND I get to poke fun at Lia, gyahahaha~ She's wayyyy too prim and proper for her own good. That is like our relationship down PARFECKTO, even if she doesn't want to admit it 'cause she's embarrassed and allllll tsuntsun like that (so where the deredere? IT IS A MYSTERY.)

Lia will deny she acts like that but don't listen to her. She's LYYIINGGGG. Lying to save face, hahahaha XD~ Oh, but don't worry, we are friends really, fufufufu ;D

Even if sometimes she wishes we weren't~

Hahaha I guess Lia's just sad cause her favorite books feature lots and lots of M-rated activities between attractive young men and- YEAH, I JUST WENT THERE.

It's totally true, as well. She acts so innocent but that's a façade! DON'T BELIEVE HER CHEERY LIES!~

I guess thee short stories aren't the kind of thing she likes reading ;3

If you keep writing lots about me I'll be a super happy bunny demon (bunny girl outfit? Good idea!), okayyyy?

Ciao

Gaap, fashionista extraordinaire!~

PS: Ooh, maybe you could hook me up with a hot guy, too. You know. This story kind of suffers from a lack of hot people- apart from ME, haha ;D And if you say Ronove, I will kick you in the face. Some stuff just shouldn't even be suggested- we're like CHILDHOOD FRIENDS. I still remember the time when I used to- oops, fufu, never mind…

Regardless.

Pairing me with that guy would just be wrong o:

* * *

><p>Greetings Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>,

It is rather nice being able to contact you like this, enabling me to learn more about your character~ An understanding of the author always helps improve the experience of reading their work.

Ah, where are my manners? I apologize. My name is Ronove, the 27th highest ranking demon in hell. Occasionally I feel it is arrogant to address myself as such, but it _is_ my given title, so…

I have been reading your collection of short stories owing to a recommendation by Miss Beelzebub, who said they were funny. Given Miss Beelzebub spends half her life in the kitchen (I suppose the other half is spent sleeping), I could not escape mention of this particular tale. Thus, my interest was piqued.

This collection is fairly good; a few humorous stories balanced by more poignant ones. If you enjoy writing then I hope you are able to continue for many years to come. I believe Miss Asmodeus may have taken up writing because of you… It's become rather commonplace to see her sat in a corner scribbling something down on a sheet of paper; the sight is quite endearing. She refuses to show anybody apart from Gaap, but if she has awoken a new calling that can only be a good thing.

This is not your only story though, is it? I happened to read a handful of others on your account and… pu ku ku… I see you happen to enjoy writing about me? And Battler, also… In rather compromising situations.

I have no problem with it, but I'm sure if Lord Battler happened to stumble across them he wouldn't be very happy. Neither would Milady. Hmn…

That could be quite problematic…

Yours sincerely,

Ronove

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Deez are fun to write :3  
>I am also in a good mood because I got 3 As in my AS exams and didn't fail anything like I thought I would. HELL YEAH~~<br>I still need to redo like 2 of my exams though so I can get a higher A grade by like 5 points in two subjects :/

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	76. Manju

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #76: Manju

* * *

><p>"Uu! Look what Mama got Maria! Look what Maria's got!"<p>

"Oooh, wow! I know what thiii~iis is, nihi~" said Chiester 410, taking one of the sweets from Maria. Then- smiling from bunny ear to bunny ear- the mischievous Chiester held the ball up to Chiester 556 for inspection. "I bet you know what this is too, rii~iight, sis? Nihihihi~"

Chiester 556's face flushed light pink. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Sure you dooo~ Nihihi~ You like to pig out on sweets like this when you think we're not watching, don't you? You can't hide your secret from us anymore!"

"T-that's not true, I-I don't-"

"We're sisters! You can't lie to me, nihihi!~"

"I-I'm not lying!"

"You are! You are you are you areeee nyeheheheh~ Let me feel how tubby you're getting, sis!"

410 tackled her little sister from behind, arms wrapping round her front in a vice-like grip. The dark-haired Chiester tried to escape but it was impossible; she could only flail and squeal.

"N-no! G-get off me! Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it I-I-I… Eeep! Kyahhhh!"

"U-um, maybe you shouldn't tease our little sister so much…" said Chiester 45, tugging at one of her pink pigtails in distress. "I-I don't think she would tell lies…"

"Eh? So you want to pick a fight with me too, huhhhh?~ Nihi~"

"N-no, I don't- I certainly don't! W-we shouldn't fight! F-fighting is bad, we should-"

But Chiester 45's protests came to an abrupt halt when, all of a sudden, 410's gloved fingers shot forwards and grabbed hold of her arm. Now, the proudly-grinning Chiester 410 held both of her sisters captive, and was alternately prodding and poking them to make them squeal. The forgotten ball of manju Maria had offered them would have rolled to the ground, had Chiester 00 not caught it at the last second.

"Here you go, Milady," said Chiester 00, handing the manju to its rightful owner. "I apologize on behalf of my childish younger sisters."

"No, it's fine!" said Maria, pushing the sweet back into 00's hands. "You saved the gift Maria got from Mama… so Maria thinks it's fine you keep it!"

Chiester 00's eyes widened slightly. "But if Miss Rosa gave it to you, I couldn't possibly…"

She didn't need to say it, but the words hovered, unspoken, in the air.

_She doesn't get you many things. You should cherish what little bits and pieces of kindness you have. Don't waste them__._

"No… It's fine! Fine! Uuu!~" Maria insisted, smiling luminously. "Mama bought Maria a whole bag… so now Maria can share! Maria has never shared with anybody before! Mama's kindness makes Maria feel happy! Maria wants to share that kindness with other people! Besides, big sister bunny always looks sad! Maria wants her to smile! Uu!~"

Chiester 00 held the sticky ball of manju in her hands. It was a common Japanese sweet; flour and rice powder filled with azuki beans and sugar. It was hardly an expensive gift. Most people wouldn't have considered such a thing a 'gift' at all. And yet, despite that…

Rosa had given it to Maria. That made it infinitely more special to the smiling young girl than anything in the world. And now Maria was trying to give a little piece of happiness to somebody else.

I-it meant so much to her, but even so…

Even so, she still wanted to make somebody else smile.

Chiester 00 had seen many horrible things; born with impeccable combat skills, as a weapon rather than a person. Furniture. She did not need gifts. She did not need friendship. She did not need happiness. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled…

But, because of this simple gesture of kindness from a small girl, she began to feel something constrict in her chest.

This gesture didn't mean anything.

It was nothing.

But… this piece of manju surely meant the world to Maria. And, to that end… seeing Chiester 00 smile must have been a whole universe.


	77. A little priest

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #77: A little priest

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ronoveee~" Beelzebub whined, tapping the prongs of her fork against her plate. She smiled sweetly. "Given you're the expert, can you clarify something for me?"<p>

"An expert on what, exactly?"

Beelzebub deadpanned. "On pole dancing. _Obviously_."

"Oh, obviously." Ronove grinned. "I didn't realize you knew about my non-existent secret talent."

"It's common knowledge. _Geez_. But no- this isn't about that, actually. It's about cooking."

Of course. With Beelzebub it was _always_ about food.

"I was wondering," Beelzebub continued, still tap-tap-tapping her fork against the side of her plate, "if people would actually taste good baked into pies."

"Are you suggesting I'm a cannibal? I'm offended. I'm a gentleman, and I wouldn't do an uncouth thing like that, pu ku ku."

"Well, you're good with food, so you should know this! It's just, I was watching Sweeney Todd the other day with Mammon and Asmo at the theater with all those snooty theater-going witches and then I got to wondering 'if Mrs. Lovett was a terrible cook before, why did using human meat in her pies suddenly make her a gourmet chef?' I doesn't add up, unless human is really tasty!"

"Aha, well, I'm no Mrs. Lovett. You do realize Sweeney Todd is just a story, yes? I believe you have to suspend your disbelief at certain points."

"No."

"Yes, Miss Beelzebub?"

"No, you're wrong. It's not a story- it's a play."

"Based on a short story."

"Really?" Beelzebub scrunched up her nose. "I didn't know that. But, whatever! You're _totally _Mrs. Lovett- don't deny it!"

"Excuse me? For one thing, I am not a woman. For another, at the moment I don't belong to the rather niche and specialist group of people who bake others into pies."

Beelzebub puffed out her cheeks in irritation. "No, you're not listening! I mean, if you _had_ to bake somebody into a pie, you'd manage to make it delectabubble-"

Delectabubble?

"-because you're a good cook, just like Mrs. Lovett! Who actually wasn't a good cook, but… let's not sweat the details."

"And, if I'm Mrs. Lovett, what does that make you?"

"Well, I'm going to make myself the main character- so of course I'm Sweeney Todd!" Beelzebub giggled cutely, whilst dragging a finger across her neck in a gesture of decapitation. "And I also happen to like a little bit of murder now and again~"

"Mm. So I'm helplessly in love with you now?"

"Naturally!"

"…And you throw me into an oven."

"Yep!"

"And what would motivate you to slit throats, Miss Beelzebub?"

"It's obvious!" said Beelzebub, in a matter-of-face voice. "Somebody took my wife away from me and murdered her, and then I was deported to Australia!"

"My, you do lead a busy life. I didn't realize you had a wife." Ronove grinned, voice lightly teasing. "Congratulations. Is she pretty?"

Beelzebub paused, tap-tap-tapping her fork against her empty plate once more in thought. All of a sudden, a thought stuck her. She smiled triumphantly, stabbing a finger at Ronove.

"_You're_ my wife, of course!"

Ronove raised a brow. "I thought I was going to be Mrs. Lovett in this sordid tale?"

"You can play both. No big deal. Actors do that sometimes." Beelzebub shrugged. "You always cook for me even when you don't wanna, and you sew buttons back onto my clothes and darn my socks, so you're my wife. _Obviously_."

Ronove smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I believe I've already been claimed by Miss Gaap."

Beelzebub's eyes narrowed. "_What_."

"Yes. It would appear I am rather popular."

Beelzebub continued to seethe. If she were a cartoon character her face would have turned red.

And then-

_Slam._

Beelzebub got to her feet- knocking her chair aside.

She picked up her fork-

And stabbed into the top of the table with all her strength.

"That bitch! Gaap stole my wife from me! I'll kill her!"

There was a pause.

Then, Ronove began to laugh.

"They all deserve to die?"

"Even you, Mrs. Lovett, even I," Beelzebub finished, grinning. "See! _That's_ why I ended up killing people! Fufufu~ I like Gaap and I don't really wanna kill her, but she needs to learn a lesson, and I have to follow the story~"

"Sadly, however, that story has already been told. Numerous times."

"…Oh yeah." Beelzebub sighed, slumping back down onto her chair.

And then…

"So," said Beelzebub conversationally, "what _do _you think human pies would taste like?"


	78. Festival

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #78: Festival

* * *

><p>"W-why have you summoned all of us, Milady?" Leviathan asked nervously.<p>

It was rare that Beatrice called the seven stakes together for a meeting. The word 'meeting' sounded really serious, and Leviathan couldn't help but feel worried. H-had she done something wrong? D-did Beatrice want to punish her and her sisters?

Maybe it had something to do with the fact Beelzebub kept stealing food from the kitchen- b-but no, everyone knew that, and that wasn't something important enough to result in a meeting like this!

Leviathan shifted nervously, fidgeting with her fingers, looking at her sisters again. They all looked as worried as her, though Lucifer, Belphegor and Satan were attempting to hide it. They weren't doing a very good job, though. Belphegor kept subconsciously adjusting her ponytail (which was already perfect), and Satan was biting her fingernails.

"D-did we do something wrong?" asked Asmodeus softly, blinking up at Beatrice in worry. "If that's the case… I'm really sorry, Milady! I-it was an accident!"

"If anything happened that you're angry about then it was probably Mammon's fault, anyway," said Satan, scowling. "That idiot just doesn't know how to behave."

"Hey! That was _mean_! I'm wounded, big sis!"

"Oh, boo, hoo. And don't call me something embarrassing like 'big sis'- use my _real name_, please!"

"Ahh, if you insist. Sure thing, Miss. Grumpypants."

"Mammon!"

"What is it, Moanalot 3000?"

Satan's left eye twitched. "Say that again and I'll gut you, don't think that I won't!"

"My, my~ Somebody's jumpy today, huh, Pumpkin Face?~ Nervous?"

"R-right, that_ does_ it-"

But Satan soon found herself being held back by her two most mature sisters, Lucifer and Belphegor. They both took hold of an arm each, restricting Satan's ability to summon her blade.

"Calm down, Satan," said Lucifer, trying to speak in a soothing way. "Mammon's just trying to tease you."

"You shouldn't rise to it," Belphegor added. "It's what she wants."

"What she _wants_ is a good kick in the face!"

"Oooh!~ So _violent_! Try and hurt me, then, Satanzilla!"

"ARGH! Why don't you-"

But nobody ever got to hear what Satan thought Mammon should do (which was probably a good thing), as Beatrice cut her off.

"Honestly, arguments like this are so _boooringg_~" said Beatrice, glaring at her impudent furniture. "You should be better behaved than this! I'm ashamed! Ashamed to call you my furniture! What do you say?"

Satan's face flushed light pink, whilst Mammon only pouted.

"Sorry, Milady," they both echoed.

"Humph. That's better. I didn't gather you here to punish you, as a matter of fact, but now I'm not so sure… Hm…"

"W-what? What did you want to say, Milady?" asked Asmodeus, eyes wide and eager.

"Well…" Beatrice smiled pleasantly. "I _was_ going to suggest we have a trip to an Obon festival in Japan, as it's coming up… It's a festival that involves the belief that the dead spirits of ancestors will revisit the family, so anti-magic power should be fairly low on those days; low enough for us to take human form for a few hours, I assume…" Beatrice's smile grew into a cold smirk. "But if you'd rather stay here and do some more work, that could be arranged. I'll merely go to the festival with teacher and Ronove instead."

Instantly, the faces of the seven sisters all lit up, just like Christmas trees.

"W-we do want to go!" said Asmodeus, speaking for the rest of her sisters with her eager innocence, being the youngest. "We do, we do!"

Beatrice grinned. "Well then~ You better behave, right?"

The seven sisters all nodded together.

"Yes, Milady!"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **M'going on holiday tomorrow so I thought I'd leave you a completed mini ficlet to make up for lack of updating next week ^_^; I hope you enjoy~

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	79. Time marches on

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #79: Time marches on

* * *

><p>"Yay! Festival, festival!"<p>

"I'm going to go goldfish scooping!"

"I wanna sample aallll the food!"

"Humph! You guys are so predictable~"

"What? What're _you_ gonna do then, Asmo?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to pick up cute guys!~ Fufufu~"

"Ahahaha! Are you trying to make me laugh?"

"W-what're you talking about, Mammon?"

"I'm just _say~_ing, guys don't usually go for short, blonde idiots with only half a brain cell!"

"Gyahaha!" Gaap laughed, planting her hands on her hips. "Ahh, poor Mammon~ You like to try and act _sooo _mature, but you obviously don't know what guys want at all. Most men would view a girl with no brain as a _plus_~ Isn't that right, Ronove?"

"Ah… Not particularly. Then again, perhaps I can't comment on what most men want… Pu ku ku~"

Gaap sniggered. "Yeah, maybe you can't."

Mammon puffed out her cheeks in irritation. "W-well, whatever! I wanna go enjoy the festival! C'mon, Beelze! Let's go eat until we explode!"

"Yeah!" Beelzebub cried, punching a fist in the air. "Here we go!"

"Well, _I'm _going to go find some cute guys!"

"Goldfish scooping, anyone?" asked Leviathan, looking about at her sisters with a small, tentative smile.

"Well… why not?" said Lucifer, returning Leviathan's smile. "Let's go."

"Ooh, goldfish scooping…" Beezelbub's eyes widened. "Are they edible?"

"Alright! Hear my commands, you Seven Sisters of Purgatory!" said Beatrice, grinning, spreading her arms wide in the most dramatic way possible. In her flower-print yukata, the long sleeves dancing in the breeze, with the matching flowers adorning her blonde hair, Beatrice looked especially regal; more so than usual. "I order you to go and have as much fun as possible!"

"Yayyyy! We promise we'll do our best, Milady!"

And, with that loud exclamation, the seven sisters- all them filled with excitement over the human world (even Belphegor, though she was more dignified in her squealing than most)- rushed off, their geta clunking against the floor. All the sisters wore matching yukatas, their hair styled neatly by Virgilia, and all of them looked equally lovely- though in their childish excitement, they were drawing laughter from the other festival goers at their strangely 'cute' antics rather than lecherous stares (those would come later).

"Um…" said Virgilia softly, worry creeping into her voice, "it's fine that they enjoy themselves... but, as this festival honors the spirits of the dead, don't you think those children should be more respectful? We should be courteous of human tradition."

Gaap merely snorted at this, clapping a hand of Virgilia's shoulder.

"Lia, Lia, Lia. You worry too much about making a good impression. Look around you. Do _any _of these people look as if they're taking 'tradition' seriously?"

…Sadly enough, Gaap was right. A large portion of people at the festival were teenagers; groups of friends or couples, most laughing and pointing at various attractions. Some were eating candyfloss, others chattering loudly. Everything was so lively- and nobody looked as though they were thinking about dead people at all (which would probably have put a downer on the festival). Instead, everybody was having fun.

"A party's a party, Lia. I kinda think, over time, these festivals become less about tradition and more about enjoying yourself… So let's have a blast, okay?"

Virgilia sighed.

Then, she nodded.

"…Alright then."

It looked like you couldn't fight change after all.

…There was something slightly depressing about that, but Virgilia tried to push that thought from her mind and have fun.


	80. Goldfish scooping

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #80: Goldfish scooping

* * *

><p>"Ooh, they all look so tasty!" Beelzebub cooed, gazing down into the shallow tank filled with goldfish. They were so adorable swimming around- but they'd be even adorabubbler inside her stomach!<p>

The man at the counter laughed as he handed Beelzebub her net. "I don't think there'd be much meat on those, Miss."

"Hm…" Beelzebub raised a brow. "You know what, you're right. Maybe I should go find Mammon after all…"

And with that, Beelzebub threw her net on the floor and walked away.

The man at the counter stared at her retreating back (she had a very lovely back; almost as pretty as her face) and sighed.

She might have been cute, but she was a bit of a… well… to put it bluntly, she was a bit _weird._

Just like the three other girls…

"Yay! I got another one!" Leviathan said, beaming, as she scooped her captured fish into a small cup provided. "That's, what, five to me? Hihihi~"

"Well done," said Lucifer- but her tone of voice wasn't sincere.

This was annoying. Lucifer was meant to be the biggest sister- the best at everything! Why was she losing to Leviathan, the flaky cry baby, of all people? How had Leviathan caught five fish when she only had _two_- and not even a nice two, either?

Urgh! It was enough to make the oldest stake's blood boil.

Leviathan's smiling face was grating on her nerves.

Then again…

Lucifer sighed in relief as she shot a sideways glance at Satan. Satan was crouched over the tank, a look of immense concentration on her face, as she dripped into the water with her net-

And all the fish promptly swam away.

Even though it was childish, Lucifer snickered to herself. It could always be worse. At least she'd caught _something_.

"It's not fair! I can't catch anything! Why won't the stupid fish just sit still?"

"Swim still?" Leviathan suggested sweetly.

Satan glared at her.

"Well," Leviathan continued, smiling, "maybe the fish swim away when they see you because they're scared!"

"…Scared?"

"Yes, because you pull so many ugly faces! They sense you're dangerous you, see!"

Satan's left eye twitched. "W-why you-"

"See, you're doing it now! It's so sad, so sad- if only you were cute and adorable like me this would be easy, hahahaha- kyahhh! D-don't kill me, Sat-chan, I was only kidding!"

"Shut up, you stupid bitch! I hate you, I seriously hate you!"

"N-no, don't dump me in the goldfish tank! You'll scare them away- even worse than before!"

"Shut _**UP**_!"

At least the poor, confused shop assistant was the one who had to tear her bickering sisters apart instead of Lucifer.

That bite on his hand looked pretty nasty.


	81. Just eat it

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #81: Just eat it

* * *

><p>"Ooh, so much food, so much! I'm in heaven!" Beezelbub cooed, eyes wide and starry, as she looked about her surroundings in awe.<p>

"I know, Beelze, I know!" Mammon said enthusiastically. She sounded like a young child in a candy store rather than the dignified stake she was supposed to be. "Oh my gosh, it all smells so good!"

"I want to eat it all, I want it alll!"

"I wish I had another stomach!"

"I wish I had _twelve_ stomachs!"

"Me too, me too! Aaahhh!"

Mammon was so overcome by the sight of all the vendors selling candyfloss, candy apples, noodles and various other junk food she nearly swooned. Luckily, Beelzebub was there to catch her.

"Are you alright, sis?"

"I'm fine! I just still can't believe this is real! Pinch me, Beelze!"

"Only if you pinch me too!"

After a perfectly synchronised round of pinching and appropriate 'ow'ing from both sisters, they soon sobered up enough to realize that, no, it wasn't dream. This paradise on earth really did exist- and now they were going to take full advantage of it!

"Beelze," said Mammon seriously, "as proud stakes of greed and gluttony, respectively, we must do our best to eat as much food here as possible!"

"You're on!" said Beelzebub, punching her fist in the air. "I'll give it my all, big sister!"

"That may be true, but…" Mammon smirked. "But _I'm _going to eat more than you!~"

And with that, Mammon gave Beelzebub a rough shove, and then ran off to the nearest fast food vendor.

"B-big sister! That's mean!"

"All's fair in food and war! **Ha**~ I can't wait to see the look on your face when I eat allll the candyfloss!"

"W-well then, I'll eat all the taiyaki! Ha!"

"Bring it on!"

"It's a challenge!"

"To the **DEATH**!"

* * *

><p>"Oh geez…" Mammon winced, hands pressed against her stomach. "I don't feel too good…"<p>

"Neither do I," Beelzebub moaned, resting her head against Mammon's shoulder.

"Hey, Beelze…"

"Yeah, big sis?"

Mammon grinned weakly. "I bet I can be sicker than you."


	82. Paparazzi

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #82: Paparazzi

* * *

><p>Festivals were so amazing! There were so many cute guys everywhere- so many; swarming like ants, but attractive ants, and they weren't 'swarming' either because 'swarming' was unattractive word, but whatever, there were lots and lots of boys!<p>

Asmodeus was almost drooling as she looked about her. Surely, amongst the crowds of people, there was a Romeo or Prince Charming or hot celebrity passing by who wanted to sweep her off her feet and make her a beautiful princess! The statistics were surely in her favor, given there were so many people, and given her insanely high levels of cute!

Ooh, she'd look so cool wearing a crown with a sceptre~ All her big sisters would have to pay attention to her when she was the princess of the universe with a rich husband, hahahaha!~~

But… it looked like a lot of the boys were with other people; moving in large groups of friends or small, cosy-looking couples, so Asmodeus couldn't even go up and talk to them.

"This isn't good- it isn't good at all," Asmodeus muttered, looking around her. "Such a pain…"

And then, all of a sudden, a wonderful idea struck her- just like a bolt of lightening, but more enlightening and less deadly life-threatening-ly.

"I know!~ I'll just follow the cutest boy I see around, and then he's bound to notice me! It's a brilliant plan!"

Grinning to herself, Asmodeus set off, noble goal in mind.

* * *

><p>And, roughly ten minutes later…<p>

"W-what happened? Where's the festival? Where is everyone?" Asmodeus looked around in alarm, her twin tails slapping her in the face as she turned this way and that. "W-where am I?"

And where had that cute guy she was following gone?

This was a disaster!


	83. Four's a crowd

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #83: Four's a crowd

* * *

><p>"Hey, darlin'. Are you by yourself?"<p>

Virgilia stumbled slightly as she felt an arm close about her wrist. Virgilia wasn't used to walking in her geta yet (she felt the most comfortable in Western clothes), and she already found it awkward to walk elegantly without making too much noise (something Gaap had been teasing her about). Having a random person grab hold of her really didn't help matters.

Virgilia turned about, eyes wide in alarm, to find who had hold of her wrist in such a tight grip.

"Hey, d'you wanna take a walk with me? I know somewhere quiet, we can get away from all the noise, haha."

It was a man; rather nondescript, but he had a greater strength than his physique made obvious.

H-he was getting too close; way too close…! His breath smelt of alcohol, too. Virgilia could recognize that smell anywhere after being friends with Gaap for so long.

"U-um, no, I don't think so," said Virgilia, trying to turn away. "Thank you for the offer, but-"

"Hey, darlin'. It wasn't an offer. More like… a command, yes?"

"H-huh?"

Viriglia felt her breath catch in her throat. S-she hadn't expected something like this would happen…! U-urgh; he was too strong and she couldn't pull away… Under normal circumstances she could easily have used magic to summon her divine spears, but it required energy to merely remain corporeal in the human world already…

"Hey, come on~" the man said, his grip on Virgilia's wrist tightening. "How old are you, girlie? Nineteen? Twenty? You're not a stupid schoolgirl; you're mature enough to appreciate some fun, huh?"

"W-well, I-I don't…"

"How old, hmm?"

"If you must know, her age easily surpasses one thousand years. Pu ku ku… I suppose you're far too young to, aha, 'have some fun' with Miss Virgilia. Maybe you should ask somebody your own age next time, hm?"

"Hey, who the hell are you?"

"I am Miss Virgilia's acquaintance," said Ronove smoothly, resting a hand on Virgilia's shoulder. "And I would appreciate it if you would leave her alone."

"I wasn't doin' a _thing _to her," the man retorted- though his grip on Virgilia's wrist didn't loosen. "Are you tryin' to start a fight?"

"Of course not. Such conduct would be uncouth." Ronove continued to smile- though his eyes had hardened. "As is harassing a lady like Miss Virgilia."

"Hey, why don't you-"

"Hey, Liaa!~ There you are!" Gaap cried, unceremoniously pushing through crowds of people as she struggled to get to Virgilia. Gaap didn't care if she was elbowing festival goers in the face or stepping on their shoes; they shouldn't have gotten in her way to begin with! "Oh, and Ronove too!~ We really should stick together better; there are so many people we might get split up again! Maybe we should hold hands next time…? It'd be just like when we were little, huh? Hey, has anybody seen Riiche, though?"

The man glared at Gaap angrily.

"Who're _you_? Can't you see I'm a little busy, Blondie? Do me a favour and fuck off."

"Whaddaya mean, _who am I_?" asked Gaap indignantly, puffing her chest out with pride. "I'm _Gaap_ and I just so happen to be AMAZING. Lia and Rono aren't _quite_ as amazing as me but I'm sure they'll get there one day. The real question is, who're you and what are you doing?"

"He claimed he wanted to 'have some fun' with Virgilia," Ronove explained, his eyes still dangerously narrowed despite his smile.

"Is that soooo?~" asked Gaap. Then, a bright smile lit up her face. "Well, the more the merrier!~~"

"W-what are you _talking _about?" asked Virgilia in alarm.

"Oh, nothing~" said Gaap cheerily. "Just, you know. That hot, sexy threesome we were totally gonna have just now."

Both Virgilia (her face flushed beet red) and the man exclaimed "What?" at this statement.

"Did you forget, Lia?" Gaap said oh-so-innocently, wrapping her arms round Lia's middle and resting her head atop her shoulder. "Me and you and Ronove… We're all hopelessly in love, obviously!~ It's like a triangle! And we just couldn't decide what to do, so- in the end- we said 'screw it' to conventional relationships and decided to stick together!~ Yeah- we're all, like, tooootally in love. It's really hot and sexy andstuff- but I can't go into too many details in a crowded place like this!~ People might overheard!~"

Gaap smiled sweetly at the poor drunk who, unfortunately for him, tried to hit on a witch with two demon best buddies.

"We're feeling really generous right now," said Gaap, her voice dropping to a whisper, "so you can join in if you waanttt~ What's one more person, huh? But I've gotta warn you… I'm a_ little _difficult to please~ I think some of my kinks might actually be illegal, but…" Gaap clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Oh well!~ Lia and Rono are used to it- and Lia, wow! She's even worse than me! Do you remember that thing with the chipmunk in the strawberry yoghurt? Gyahaha!~"

By this point the man's face had turned chalky white. Letting go of Virgilia's hand as though she had some horrific disease, he began to back away slowly.

"Hn." Gaap rolled her eyes. "Well, that was disappointingly easy. I guess four really _is_ a crowd after all."

"Skilfully done," said Ronove, clapping. "You really do have a wonderful way of settling disputes. Well done, Miss Gaap."

Gaap smiled. "Well, I do try~ You would've been fine without my help though, hm?"

"Aha… To be perfectly honest, that man was very close to having his teeth knocked out, pu ku ku~"

"Ooh. Very gentlemanly."

"Some sacrifices have to be made to defend those you care about." Ronove looked at Virgilia with sympathy, holding onto her unstable form to ensure she didn't fall over. "Like Miss Virgilia's sanity, apparently…"

"Gaap, you didn't…" Virgilia maoned, recovering from her surprise somewhat. Her face was burnt bright red with shame. "Y-you didn't need to say… to say… U-um…"

"It's okay," said Gaap, grinning. "You can thank me later."

Giggle, giggle.

"Buuuut~ I wasn't joking about that threesome, you know~"

It was at this point Viriglia fainted.

Ronove sighed, arms tightening round Virgilia.

"I'm beginning to wonder whether she would have been better off with that man now than with you…"

Gaap smiled.

"Ooops?"


	84. Candy carving

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #84: Candy carving

* * *

><p>"…Hello, Belphegor."<p>

"O-oh." Belphegor flushed slightly as she heard her master's voice. She bowed her head, trying to remain composed, even though panic began to well up inside her. "H-hello, Milady."

"I think that might attract some odd looks," said Beatrice, grinning. "In festivals people don't generally call one another 'Milady' or their 'master' unless they're into some reaalllyyyy weird stuff, right?"

Belphegor's face turned bright red. Her fingers trembled. "Y-yes, of course… I apologize."

"Call me Beatrice."

"I-I couldn't possibly-"

"It's not that hard to say~~ Well…" Beatrice smirked. "It is a liiittle for some people, but you speak very well~ Repeat after me. Beatrice. Beaaatriceeeee~"

"B-b-b-b… B-b.. Bea… I…" Belpeghor flushed. Why couldn't she say it?

It…

It just felt improper, somehow.

Shamed, unable to obey an order, Belphegor looked down at the floor, hair falling before her eyes.

"I'm sorry…"

"Muu… It's alright," said Beatrice- though it didn't sound too sincere. If anything, she sounded… hurt. "I suppose you're very well-trained furniture, unlike your sisters, gyahaha!~ They could learn a thing or two from you."

"T-thank you, Mi- um…" Belphegor blinked up at Beatrice shyly. "B-bea… Beatrice…?"

Beatrice's eyes widened- and then a wide smile spread across her face.

"Yay, you did it!~ It wasn't so hard, riiight? And you said it beautifully, too; you're such a clever girl!"

"U-um… Not really…"

Belphegor was used to being alone. Suddenly having this much attention foisted on her, in a huge deluge, was a little unnerving; almost _scary_- even though she'd always wanted recognition for her hard work before.

It was an unwinnable scenario.

In essence, Belphegor would always be unhappy.

The end.

"Hee, and so modest, too~ Maybe you could try calling me 'Beato' next?"

Belphegor jumped slightly in surprise. "I-I think that's going a little too far, Miss!"

"…Fine." Beatrice pouted. "But you won't be pleasant company if you don't start being more relaxed. I'm not scary really, fufufu~ I don't bite."

"U-um… Far be it from me to question you, Milady, but…" Belphegor looked back down at her shoes. Her shoes were nice and comforting. They didn't try and talk to her. "Why are you spending time with me?"

"I was with Ronove and Gaap and Teacher, but then they all vanished some way or another and I didn't even realize until they'd gone!" said Beatrice, scowling. "Maybe they tried to ditch me… T-that would simply be too low!"

"O-oh…" Belphegor knew how being ditched felt all too well- but she couldn't imagine something like that from Ronove or Virgilia; not even from Gaap. "I'm sure it was merely an accident. They wouldn't do something like that."

"I think so too, but I can't find them. And then I ran into you." Beatrice smiled warmly. "I haven't really spoken to you very often, so I thought, why not? And here I am~ Why are you alone, anyway?"

"My sisters left… Um… I-I don't mind."

"Well, you're not alone anymore. Is there anything you wanna do?"

Belphegor looked a little embarrassed. Wasn't it a little weird, going to festival and then… Not many people did that- but the other attractions didn't appeal to Belphegor at all, and everything was so loud and noisy. It would be a quiet, secluded stall…

But what if Beatrice laughed at her?

"It's okay," said Beatrice. "You can tell me, riiight?~"

"W-well… I-I wanted to do some… candy carving? Um… Maybe…"

There was a pause.

"I-I mean," Belphegor turned bright red, "i-if you don't want to, or you think it's boring, that's fine, most people don't like it-"

"Belphieeee."

Belphegor's words died in her mouth. Her insides twisted uncomfortably.

Then… Beatrice laughed.

"You really take things too seriously. This is meant to be fun, right?~ I've never been to a festival like this before, so I want to do everything! It all sounds like an exciting adventure to me!"

"O-oh… A-alright, um…" Belphegor smiled shyly, bowing her head. "T-thank you…?"

"You don't need to thank me." Beatrice smiled. "For a smart girl, you sure can be an idiot sometimes."


	85. May be magic, most likely mundane

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #85: May be magic, most likely mundane

* * *

><p><em>Bang!<em>

"Wow! Look at them! They're so amazing!"

_Bang!_

"Kyahhh! It feels like those bits of fire are going to fall on us! I-it's kind of scary!"

_Bang!_

"Oooh!~ Don't be scared, Asmo! They're so _pretty_!~ Look, look, look!"

_Bang!_

"Ahaha! Y-you're right, Beelze! They're scary… but they're pretty, too! I want one! I want to take one home with me! I-I'd just need to stop it exploding first, heheh…"

_Bang!_

"They must be magic! There's no other explanation!"

_Bang!_

"It's magic, magic!"

Belphegor sighed as she watched her two youngest sisters, Beelzebub and Asmodeus, staring up at the sky with their arms outstretched. Every few seconds another_ bang!_ would echo through the crisp night air, cutting through the excited chatter of the festival, as more and more fireworks were shot up into the air.

It really was a beautiful sight; streaks of color burning up in the sky just like stars. Asmodeus and Beelzebub's huge grins were lit up by the bright lights, and the whole sky was awash with a sea of blues and reds and greens. It was the grand finale of the obon festival, and it really was beautiful.

_Bang!_

"Magic, magic!"

"It must be magic!"

…But Beelzebub and Asmodeus' excitement was getting a little irritating.

Belphegor sighed.

_Oh, for heaven's sake…_

It looked like she had to inform the clueless masses once more.

"It's not magic," said Belphegor calmly, folding her arms. "Fireworks are an entirely human invention that produce noise, light and smoke for festive purposes. They date back to 7th century China. In some cases they provide their own propulsion, or they can be shot into the air. They explode because combustible material is put inside, which ignites when kindled."

"My, my," said Virgilia, smiling as she gracefully adjusted the sleeves of her yukata. "You do know a lot, don't you, Belphegor?"

Belphegor flushed slightly, looking slightly embarrassed at this praise. "W-well, not really… I-I just did some research before we went to the festival…"

But Asmodeus and Beelzebub looked less than impressed.

"Thanks a lot, Belphie," said Asmodeus, pouting. "You just, like, _totally _poured cold water over our fun!"

"It's like when you're eating food," Beelzebub continued, hands on her hips. "If you know exactly what you've put into it, it doesn't taste as good. Why do you think so people like to go to restaurants, hmn?"

"You're such a killjoy."

"It was nicer thinking it was magic!"

"Can't you keep your _vast_, superior general knowledge to yourself next time?"

"Maybe us common plebeians don't want to be crushed with your giant brain-head knowledgeness!"

"Yeah!"

"I-I'm sorry…" said Belphegor, stuttering in surprise. "I-I didn't mean to ruin anything, I was just… just…"

"Being a know-it-all."

"As always."

Belphegor's flushed face- which had, previously, been from happiness over the fireworks- changed into one of deep embarrassment. She didn't want to make her sisters feel bad, n-not really, she just thought they might like to know… Their constant squeals of 'magic, magic!' had been a little irritating, too- but she hadn't been acting out of malice. N-not at all!

Shouldn't people be happy when they learnt new things?

…Apparently not.

Belphegor sighed.

She really didn't understand her sisters sometimes.


	86. You're dead

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #86: You're dead

* * *

><p>"Cornelia, you're dead!"<p>

"Excuse me?"

"You're dead!" the second class priest repeated. Her smile was oh-so-innocent, but Cornelia was able to detect something cruel behind that expression.

Cornelia looked about her, frozen in place in the middle of the main office, surrounded by people. Her face was flushed light pink. Her fellow members of Eiserne Jungfrau were staring at her as though she'd just eaten a baby in front of them. H-had she done something wrong? She was only a lowly third class priest and she hadn't been a member of Eiserne Jungfrau very long, so it was only to be expected she would make some mistakes… b-but, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what she'd done!

"I-I'm sorry," Cornelia apologized, looking down at her feet, "but I still don't quite understand what you mean… P-please allow me to speak… Can you please elaborate?"

"You haven't done anything wrong, dummy," another second class priest said, sniggering.

"You're still dead, though."

Laughter. "I guess you wouldn't understand. You're wayyy too serious to have some fun with us, huhh?~"

"W-what are you talking about?"

Her skin prickled, as though numerous insects were trekking a path up and down her arms and legs. She felt ill; nauseous; uneasy at being put on the spot like this so suddenly.

It was a horrible feeling- to be the butt of some great collective joke nobody would share with her. It had happened often enough when she was younger, but Cornelia had hoped the people working at Eiserne Jungfrau would be more professional…

Apparently not.

Despite their stoic behaviour during their missions, these priests were still very much normal girls, with the same capacity for cruelty as the witches and demons they executed. Maybe… they were not so different after all…

But that was a scandalous thought, surely.

This… was just a test- as was every other embarrassment, humiliation, unfortunate event or painful accident in Cornelia's life.

Just a test.

But… she was very sick, and very, very tired, of being the odd one out all the time.

The new girl.

The clumsy girl.

The girl who couldn't do anything right, no matter how hard she tried.

Eventually, a second class priest Cornelia vaguely recalled being named Justine took pity on her, and decided to elaborate why- exactly- she was 'dead' for stepping into the centre of the main office.

"It's just a game the others are playing," Justine explained, smiling softly. "As a way to make paperwork more interesting. Anybody who walks through the middle of the main office is 'dead'. You have to go around the sides of the room. That's all. We do silly things like that sometimes when it gets too dull around here."

"O-oh… Is it that all…? Thank you for telling me…"

"You wouldn't care though, would you, Cornelia?" said another priest- a girl called Juliette. She giggled. "You're so serious. We didn't tell you about this game 'cause we knew you wouldn't like it, you see?"

"You just have a… different sense of humor to us."

"She has a sense of humor?"

"Oh, don't be cruel."

"Fufufufu~"

"Hahaha!~"

More laughter.

Cornelia wasn't surprised. This always happened, so… it was merely to be expected.

All of a sudden Cornelia felt strangely tearful. She wanted to go back to her own office. She wanted to be by herself. She turned, running from the room- in her distress, almost tripping over her feet. She quite forgot the papers she had intended to pick up; the main reason she'd entered the main office to begin with.

"Oh, and Cornelia," said Juliette, still smiling as Cornelia ran past her. "You're still dead."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I'm back :3 And I bring… a rather depressing short XD  
>I'll be kinder to poor Cornelia in the future, I promise XD<br>A lot of humor seems to revolve around taking characters and putting them into excruciatingly embarrassing situations and/or bullying them horribly, have you noticed?


	87. Family reunion

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #87: Family reunion

* * *

><p>"Gaap!"<p>

"Ronove!"

"We have glad tidings-"

"-about our fellow friends-"

"-you would much, much happier for knowing!"

"It's a story of love-"

"-and romance-"

"-between two demons-"

"-such as ourselves!"

"Oh!" Furfur exclaimed, wide-eyed, hands clasped together, "it's so beautiful- just like a fairytale!~"

"I hope it doesn't end up like 'the Little Mermaid' then," said Gaap, sniggering. "You know the poor, lovely, love-struck girl turned into foam and died for her troubles, hm?"

"Ah, but in death there is romance, too!"

Gaap pulled a face. "There's romance in death, huhhh?~ Now, that's kind of sick, even for me, but whatever you like, fufufufu~"

"Perhaps it would be kinder to let the dead rest in peace? I'm sure it's disrespectful to say such things," Ronove suggested lightly, sidestepping what could perhaps have become a rather macabre conversation.

"But, anywayy~" Gaap slammed her palms down on the table top, making the cups and saucers from her idle teatime with Ronove and Virgilia clink and clatter. "What's this amazing news? You better hurry up 'cause I know you guys and you'll talk about the joys of 'love' for half an hour before you spit out what you actually want to say, during which time I'll go insane and throttle you so I'll never hear the news anyways."

"Ahhh!~ Scary, so scary! She's so cruel-hearted, Zepar!"

"That's right, dear Furfur! Uuu~"

Shuddering, the twins hugged each other in mock terror, still wailing 'scary, so scary!'.

Virgilia only nodded. Zepar and Furfur always threw her off guard- they were so _loud_, not to mention so _bright_- but she had to agree with that statement. Gaap could do some truly horrible things sometimes.

"Whether Miss Gaap is cruel-hearted or not, I must admit I'm rather interested in your 'glad tidings', too," said Ronove, smiling. "Do elaborate, please."

"Well," said Furfur, eyes shining, "it's about our dear friends-"

"-although maybe not that dear," Zepar interjected, grinning. "I vaguely remember Gaap didn't get along too well with themmmm."

"Hey, I got along with all the other demons just fine way back when- it was Ronove who had the really big problem with-"

At this, Ronove's pleasant smile grew slightly strained.

"Oh." Gaap's eyes softened slightly. "I forgot that was a touchy subject. Sorry."

Virgilia shifted in her chair. What this about a touchy subject? It _must _have been pretty serious, given how Gaap actually looked apologetic for once, but Virgilia had never heard of this before. Perhaps this was just a 'demon thing', and as a witch she wouldn't understand.

"Well, this isn't about Sitri," said Furfur, also smiling in an usually kind way. "Don't worry."

"We always thought he was a jerk, too."

Ronove looked a tad disillusioned. "Do you know about that as well?"

"It was common knowledge, dummy!~"

"Aha…" Ronove sighed. "Of course."

"No, look, don't get all depressed," said Zepar. "This is about Forneus-"

"-and Decarabia!"

"They're totally in love!" both twins said together, swooning into each other's arms.

"Oh, it's so romantic!"

"They look so _happy _together!"

"Why, if I wasn't a demon of love I'd probably find their devotion to one another **sickening**!"

"Vomit-inducing!"

"It's like little pink love hearts are following them around everywhere!"

"Hahahaha!"

"Kyahahahaha!~~"

Laughing like a pair of hyenas, the twins held onto each other for support- although it was beginning to look very likely they would collapse onto the floor given their sudden euphoria. Zepar and Furfur had always enthusiastic about love, even for love in general sense between people they hadn't met, but love between demons- old childhood friends they'd grown up with, no less- was so incredible (and unlikely) Zepar and Furfur were acting completely demented even for their own standards.

"Neus and Ria?" asked Gaap- who also seemed to be swept up in this sudden deluge of slushy romanticism. "Fufufu!~ I always knew they liked each other~ They just had that _spark _about them, don't you think, Ronoveee?~"

"They always were good friends," Ronove agreed, smiling. "I haven't seen them for a while- which is a pity, but perhaps we should visit the happy couple together to offer our congratulations? Pu ku ku~"

"Ooh, good idea!"

"We haven't seen them-"

"-for a while, either-"

"-'cause we only heard the news-"

"-through Seere in passing!"

"Fufufufufu!~ I'm so excited, Zepar!~"

"Me too, Furfur! To think, even demons can find true love-"

"Ahh, stop, stop!" Furfur said, giving a theatrical sniff. "It's so beautiful you'll just make me cry!"

"With laughter?~"

"Kiyahahahaha!~"

"Ahaha, usually I find your loud voices completely annoying and obnoxious, but now I totally agree with you! I need to see Ria and be all 'I told you sooooo'!~ I knew she'd always end up with that idiot, fufufu~ Does Neus still have that stupid haircut?"

"Seere said it was very stupid," said Zepar, nodding.

"And Seere is so lovely he would never lie~"

"Fufufufu!~"

"Ahaha, this is brilliant! It was so obvious it would end up this way," said Gaap, hands on her hips. "Let's go see them right now!"

There was a resounding "yes!~" from both Zepar and Furfur, as the twins hurried to cling onto Gaap and Ronove.

"Okay, we're moving out!~ See you later, Lia!"

"B-but, I-"

But Virgilia's words were wasted on thin air. Within seconds Gaap, Ronove, Zepar and Furfur had disappeared in one of Gaap's dark portals.

Virgilia sighed, resting her head on the table, glaring at her teacup. It was perhaps a little immature to be so disillusioned, but…

She didn't like feeling so out of the loop.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget Ronove and Gaap had known each other far longer than they had known her.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **In my strange Umineko head canon Zepar, Furfur, Ronove and Gaap grew up together, all being demons of the 72 pillars (I suppose they'd at least be aware of each other's existence) and appearing the roughly the same age. There is absolutely nothing in official canon to back this up (there might even be some things that oppose it…) but I love this idea way too much to not use it XDD;;


	88. Placeholder

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #88: Placeholder

* * *

><p>Hachijo Ikuko sighed as she stared at the blank screen of her computer. Her fingers rested on the mouse, absently scrolling up and down the empty expanse of white Word document as though it would help kick her inspiration into overdrive.<p>

It didn't.

Ikuko's latest novel, _The Alliance of the Golden Witch_, wasn't panning out too well. Somehow, she found the interactions between Beatrice and Battler incredibly difficult to write- and they were the two pivotal characters in the story! She had to get this done perfectly or else the whole novel would collapse like a three year old flan kept at the back of a pantry.

And Ikuko didn't like flans very much.

Ikuko knew if she didn't communicate Hachijo Tohya's words properly she would be doing him a great disservice. His stories were incredible; it would feel like a waste if she couldn't make them even better.

She wasn't merely writing for herself anymore.

Ikuko sighed again, pouting at her empty screen. She really needed a drink… but she didn't want to let the blank document defeat her!

Slowly, Ikuko's fingers began to press against the keyboard. Her hands started typing whilst her brain wondered elsewhere. Sometimes, being too critical of your own writing hindered you more than it helped; she had to forget she even trying to write a best-selling novel at all! That way, she wouldn't feel so much pressure, and her words would sound more… _natural._

Ha. Ikuko snorted to herself, rolling her eyes. What would her legion of fans do if they discovered the great, mysterious mystery novel author, Hachijo Tohya (actually Ikuko plus Tohya, and Ikuko did all the real writing work), was just as susceptible to writers' block as anybody else?

It wasn't like she was superhuman or anything… Although that was a fun idea, being a super-powered witch~

She'd have a lot less problems that way.

Witches probably didn't have to pay electricity bills.

Finally, Ikuko finished a page of pure Battler and Beatrice communication. She'd jotted (more like 'typed', but jotted was a nicer word) it down quickly; a test to thaw out her frozen writing abilities. There were a few spelling errors, but mostly… it was decent.

Apart from one thing.

Why was Beatrice laughing so much? The whole scene had been completely eaten by manic 'kyahahahaha's and 'fufufufufu's and 'gyahahahahaha's- and there wasn't even anything _that _amusing going on.

Ikuko frowned.

…Well. Maybe she could use the laughter as a placeholder.

She'd go back and change it later when a greater idea struck.

* * *

><p>A greater idea never struck.<p> 


	89. Every cloud has one

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #89: Every cloud has one

* * *

><p>"Urgh… I can't believe mom thought I would like something like <em>this<em>," said Jessica disdainfully, picking up her new dress between the pads of her thumb and forefinger as though it was diseased.

In fact…

Given the odd, dark green color, it really **might** have been diseased, too. Maybe the dress had been sat at the back of the shop, unwanted, for so long it began to grow mold- it's own ecosystem!- and the crafty store owners were trying to take advantage of this minor misfortune by marketing the strange, mottled, yellow and white and green pattern the dress sported as the 'latest trend'.

If Natsuhi knew Jessica was thinking of such things, she would only tell her daughter- in that terse, clipped way of hers'- to stop being so rude about her gift.

"Seriously, though! Mom actually expects me to _wear_ this? I don't care about fashion at all and even _I _can tell it's hideous!"

Well. Maybe Natsuhi would realize her grave error once she saw Jessica_ wearing_ the ugly thing.

…That would require Jessica to actually put the dress on, though.

The dress would have to touch her.

It would be on her _skin._

The thought was enough to make Jessica shudder. It was hideous; almost as bad as wilfully letting somebody drop a tarantula down the front of your shirt.

But some sacrifices had to be made for Natsuhi to see sense.

Jessica's pride being one of them.

* * *

><p>Kanon had been quietly, joylessly fulfilling his tasks of cleaning one of the many winding corridors in the Ushiromiya mansion, when-<p>

"Arghhhh!"

-a very loud scream made him jump. The dustpan and brush slipped from Kanon's lax grip, hitting the floor with an audible clatter that made the servant wince. Woes at his clumsiness aside, though, Kanon had other- much greater, more pressing- matters to worry about.

The sound of screaming continued.

It sounded like Jessica.

It _had _to be Jessica.

Kanon's eyes narrowed with determination.

He had to save her.

It might have been furniture's job to clean the house, but it was _also _furniture's job to take care of their employers, and Kanon would never forgive himself if something happened to Jessica! What if she was hurt? What if she was being attacked? What if, following this protracted screaming, she suffered from an asthma attack _whilst _she was suffering- perhaps having fallen over, sprained her ankle, or maybe she was being _mugged_; murdered? It was a common rumor servants (generally the butler) would try to kill their masters, and Kanon had always treated those stories with little more than slight indignation (he would never do anything like that; not even to Miss Natsuhi when she was being particularly cruel), but now he couldn't help but wonder if those stories were true.

Most rumors started with a grain of truth, after all. Kumasawa always said that, with her mysterious smile.

There were a thousand and one 'what if's relating to Jessica's unknown situation, all more hideous than the last, but Kanon wasn't going to sit around and compile a list- not now!

"Milady!" With a hint of urgency in his voice that rarely surfaced, Kanon ran forwards-

"No, don't come in, don't come in!"

But it was too late.

Kanon had already pushed open Jessica's bedroom door.

And then he froze.

The whole world seemed to stop, just like a photograph.

Kanon's breath caught in his chest.

This… was rather unexpected.

Kanon had thought of dozens of horrible scenarios to explain Jessica's screaming, even going as far as to imagine Gohda beating her upside the head with a ladle- which wasn't really an effective murder weapon, given knives, which Gohda also had ample access to, was much more deadly; but common sense tended to flee Kanon when he was particularly worried (something that rarely happened).

And yet, despite those bizarre thoughts flittering through his mind, Kanon had never once entertained the idea that Jessica was being attacked by a carnivorous _dress._

A rather ugly dress, granted- but still just a dress.

Jessica was lying on the floor, legs caught up in folds and ruffles of dark green and mauve, whilst her upper torso had been completely submerged in complicated swathes of material, her arms and legs both crammed inside the dress whilst her hair was stuck in the zip at the back of the hideous outfit.

Overall, she looked a little like a caterpillar, writhing about on the ground like that. Either that, or the dress was trying to eat her, like some long-lost relative of the venus flytrap. It would've been quite funny, had Kanon the cruelty or unprofessionalism to find the embarrassments of his masters amusing.

"Milady…" Kanon tried to keep his voice steady- tried not to _blush_ at the sight of Jessica in her state of half dress (at least she couldn't see him), "I apologize if I have inconvenienced you; I heard your shouts and I assumed-"

"Ahaha, u-um… Well, there's nothing wrong- I'm fine!"

"Indeed. I… cannot tell you how sorry I am…"

"U-um…" Jessica paused. Her embarrassment was obvious in her words, though she was trying to put a brave face on it; smothering over her humiliation with nervous laughter. "W-well, if you were trying to 'save' me, then… I'm flattered… I suppose… Haha! M-most princes rescue princesses from dragons, though, n-not dresses!"

True- but Kanon wasn't a prince. Did… Jessica think of him like that? Or was she just joking? He couldn't tell…

"You don't need to be flattered. I was merely fulfilling my duty as furniture by checking your wellfare," said Kanon stiffly. "I can go now, if you-"

"N-no… Don't go."

Kanon paused, hardly believing his ears.

"Milady…?"

Why would any girl- especially an Ushiromiya of high social status- invite one of their servants to sit and watch them getting dressed? Not only was it undignified, but… wasn't that a little inappropriate, too? Kanon felt himself shudder slightly; h-he couldn't obey a direct order, but…

He was only furniture. He tried not to think about it too much.

"Stay here… with me. Please." Jessica's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "Haha… It's a little embarrassing, but… I didn't realize putting on a _dress_ would be so difficult- but it had so many folds and _layers_ I got a little lost, haha! Maybe…" A sigh. "Maybe I am worthless at being a girl after all…"

"You're not worthless, Milady," said Kanon, instinctively comforting the dejected girl without really knowing why. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "That's impossible. You would look fine whatever you wore."

"R-really…?"

"Yes. It's true."

"…Thank you." Jessica's response was quiet, almost shy- and Kanon couldn't help but feel slightly weak-headed by her unusual coyness. "Thank you, Kanon. Maybe I feel like less on an idiot now, hehe."

"You're not an idiot."

"Tell that to mom then. Ahh, but… I think, if I put my arms here, and my head- yes! Alright!"

There was a rustling, a shifting underneath the tent-like, enveloping dress- and then, like a flower popping out of the ground, Jessica's head finally managed to find its way out of the neck of the dress. Her arms soon followed, pushing their way out of the puff sleeves in two defiant motions.

"Yes!~ I did it!~ That shouldn't feel like such an accomplishment, hehe… especially as this dress is really hideous and not worth the trouble. Haa- what a waste of time." Jessica picked at the hem of the moldly monstrosity with narrowed eyes. "It looks just like I thought it would." She pulled a face. "Awful."

Kanon didn't smile. Furniture couldn't smile. But, even so… It was true. The dress was rather hideous; but, when paired with Jessica's wide grin and natural charm, it only made her face shine even more. Kanon preferred Jessica in her usual clothes (w-why did his preferences to Jessica's attire matter at all? Why had he been thinking about it so much?)- but this dress was a nice change, too…

If only it wasn't so _green_.

Then again, Jessica would look pretty in whatever she wore.

Kanon's heart thumped painfully in his chest; though it was not a 'thump' so much as it was a violent escape attempt to leap up his windpipe and out of his mouth. Now, _that_ really would have been unprofessional.

Trying to stifle his rapidly increasing heartbeat- it was so loud surely Jessica could hear it- Kanon tried to mask the sound by speech; the first words that came from his stupid mouth.

"I think you look very nice, Milady."

"E-eh?" Jessica's cheeks flushed. "Don't tell lies like that just because you have to- it's embarrassing! Geez!"

Kanon bowed his head. "I'm sorry if I have upset you- but I was merely telling the truth."

"…The truth, huh?"

Face still flushed, Jessica slowly got to her feet- and, smiling awkwardly, she gave a small, experimental twirl. The skirts fluttered out around her. Jessica began to laugh, a little abashed.

Nice?

She looked nice?

Of course not- Kanon was just trying to be polite, but…

Jessica couldn't quite keep the foolish smile from her face.

Maybe she would dresses more often- n-not this dress, of course, but a _nice_ one, and then maybe, well…

Maybe looking stupid for a few moments in an ugly, ill-fitting outfit was worth it, if Kanon would compliment her again.


	90. Not guilty

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #90: Not guilty

* * *

><p>She wasn't doing anything <em>bad<em>, Gaap tried to reason with herself, as she discreetly poured a full bottle of sleep medicine (warning: may cause nausea and/or severe diarrhoea, take in moderation) in Virgilia's tea.

Gaap wasn't going to _kill _Virgilia. At least, that wasn't her primary aim. Death wasn't warned for on the label of the bottle so it should've been fine- and if death _was_ an unfortunate side effect, it had never been Gaap's intention, so that basically made it manslaughter, not real murder. Therefore, using that logic, Gaap was completely, 100% innocent.

Gaap was just wanted to put Virgilia to sleep for a few hours so she could steal her shoes, because Virgilia's shoes were really hot and they went with Gaap's newest outfit and Virgilia was being a sore-head and wouldn't let Gaap borrow her shoes even though Gaap asked nicely and remembered to say 'please' and all, so now Gaap had kind of sort of resorted to drugging Virgilia (and quite possibly killing her with an overdose of unnecessary medicine, but Gaap was trying not to think about that) because she wouldn't be a decent friend and let Gaap borrow her shoes for _one hour._

At some point, Gaap considered it might have been just a little hypocritical saying Virgilia wasn't a 'decent friend' whilst she was actively trying to drug her. However, Gaap tried to squash down her pesky conscience. Sometimes Gaap wished she didn't have a heart at all; then she wouldn't feel so guilty when she did terrible things to people who were supposed to be her friends- but it was basically Virgilia's fault anyway for being stingy and mean, so why should Gaap feel guilty?

Gaap only wanted to borrow Virgilia's shoes. It wasn't like she was trying to hurt her (not that much, anyway). Gaap wasn't going do anything to her whilst she slept or anything! It was a potential murder (no, not murder, manslaughter- **IF** Virgilia actually died, which she might not!) in the face of acquiring shoes; there was no rape involved at all! That made it okay!

Even so, Gaap felt a bit like she'd crossed some sort of line.

…

…

…

Oh well. She'd been 'friends' with Virgilia for roughly one thousand years- and they had the rest of infinity stretching out before them. That was plenty of time to repair a friendship. Poisoning your friend to steal their shoes didn't sound great (not even in Gaap's head), but maybe it was actually charming and kooky and adorable; something everybody did? They'd look back on this event in years and laugh about it.

Virgilia would understand if (**when!**) she woke up.

Probably.

Most definitely.

…Probably _not_, actually.

But if Gaap didn't think about it, it had never happened! So that was okay.


	91. Good George, bad George

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #91: Good George, bad George

* * *

><p>"Shannon, p-please may I have a word, right now in fact!"<p>

George winced. He'd been on friendly terms with Shannon for the past few years or so now, and he still wasn't sure how to naturally address her. Should he be polite? His dad told him to be polite when he spoke to girls, but Uncle Rudolf had countered, smirking, that it was fine being nice to _girls,_ but _real_ _women _liked it if men were more masculine and aggressive. Eva had rolled her eyes at this but didn't comment; instead, she had chosen to extract her revenge by pinching Rudolf's ear after their 'cosy catch up' with such strength it seemed in danger of severing from his head. Kyrie had only laughed.

All things considered, it would have been best to be nice to Shannon. George had originally been aiming for 'nice' when he approached her in the rose garden; nice, nice, nothing but nice. Everybody liked a nice guy, right?

And yet… George had acted like that at school- and it had brought him nothing but misery. The other students would snicker over his refined manners and polite nature, calling him posh, bland, boring.

_Weird._

George knew Shannon would never say cruel things like that, but he wanted to leave an impression on her, and aybe being nice simply wouldn't cut it.

He didn't want to offend her, though.

Torn between two difficult choices, with a slight fluttering feeling at the pit of his stomach, George had opened his stupid mouth without really thinking how to address Shannon- and, as a result, he ended up sounding quite stupid.

Curses.

Shannon didn't seem to mind, though. Instead, she turned about, smiling softly like the setting sun, and gave George a small bow. It looked as though she was trying not to giggle. Was it just his imagination, or did Shannon look more confident, more self-assured, than usual?

"Yes, Master George? What is it that you need?"

"I was hoping I could ask you something… useless furniture…"

Was that aggressive enough? George fretted. He'd never really spoken to many girls before, save Jessica (who didn't count, being his cousin), and he didn't know to impress them. Maybe he could try and be a bit more forceful?

"Y-you stupid bitch!"

…Somehow, that didn't sound too good.

Given Shannon's facial expression, George was inclined to believe she agreed with him.

"H-huh? George, are you feeling alright?" asked Shannon, now visibly worried. Her happy smile had vanished. "Y-you've never called me that before… A-are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Ah, n-no! No, of course not! You didn't do anything wrong!"

"T-then why-"

"Forget I said anything!"

Shannon bit her lower lip in worry, eyes downcast. "Did Miss Eva say something? Did she… find out about us? A-are you in trouble? I'm sorry, George, I-"

"No, she said nothing! Shannon- n-no…" George's face flushed slightly. "_Sayo_. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. That was a heartless thing to say- I wasn't thinking."

Inwardly, he was kicking himself. Trying to be 'cool' and 'edgy' just wasn't worth it; not if it hurt Shannon's feelings. He didn't want to make her cry!

George reached forwards and took hold of Shannon's hands, not caring if any of his older relatives were there to witness it. Nothing mattered save Shannon.

"I wanted to tell you something important, a-and then I got nervous, and I wasn't sure how to get your attention and I didn't know how to phrase it… I-really don't mean the things I said. I just wanted… I just wanted to ask if you would like to go on a d… d… t-to the _aquarium _with me; that's it! I know it might be kind of boring, and if you don't it's fine, you might be busy, but-"

"No…"

"Huh?" George's heart sank like a lead weight. "You don't want to-"

"No." Shannon lifted her eyes to meet George's. And then… she giggled. "No, it's fine! I don't think it would be boring at all!"

"S-sayo?"

"I would love to go on a _date_ with you. Hehe~" Shannon's smile was positively luminous. "I wonder what I should wear…"

George's heartbeat fell back to its normal speed. His hopes were no longer crushed. Instead, they soared.

"Y-yes! It's a date! Aha, Sayo, you had me worried for a few seconds there."

"Well~" Shannon prodded George on the tip of his nose. "You were being mean so masterfully I thought I should try!~ It's pretty fun too, hehehe!~"

* * *

><p>"Ahaha, that's right, Shannonnnn~"<p>

Beatrice the Golden Witch laughed to herself as she watched the scene between the maid and her master unfold. Invisible to all on the island, even to Shannon, lighter than air and with far less substance, Beatrice sat comfortably under the arbour, sipping her tea like a refined lady.

Her laugh was anything but.

"Kukukuku!~ I knew giving you that brooch would solve your problems… Hoh~" She grinned. "And it even gave you a bit of a backbone!~ After all…"

Beatrice's twisted grin softened into a sweet, more natural smile; one she would never show to any human. It would completely ruin her reputation.

"If you're going to fall in love on my behalf… you should at least try and take charge. Men are so useless, you know…"

Oh, how Beatrice knew.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Hi –waves-  
>It's nearly the 100th chapter isn't it o: That's so strange XD~<br>I was working on something big for the 100th chapter- like, rilly big, like a 10k chapter big with nearly all the characters involved- but it's ended up being incredibly bizarre and cracktastic and just plain _weird_ above even my standards (not even kidding here, when I say it's weird it /is/ **weird**) so I'm pondering whether I should post it here at all or just make a separate story o_o;  
>Any thoughts on the matter? O:<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	92. A sight for sore eyes, part 1

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #92: A sight for sore eyes, Part 1

* * *

><p><em>What does that say? Um… Let's see…<em>

_The handmaiden… of… a more pro… professional? No, profoundly… The handmaiden of a more profoundly-_

_I…_

_I-it's not meant to look like that, is it?_

_Words shouldn't merge together like that…_

Belphegor winced. Her eyes were aching. They almost felt sore, and she found she had to keep rubbing them- hoping she would, perhaps, be able to shift the cloudy film that was beginning to eat into her deteriorating vision.

It didn't help.

It only made her eyes hurt more.

Belphegor pressed a hand to her temple, trying to steady her breathing. She couldn't believe her eyesight had become so bad so very quickly. Didn't symptoms develop slowly?

Dread crept through her skin like icy water.

Or maybe she symptoms had developed so slowly she hadn't noticed until it was too late.

All Belphegor knew was that as she tried to read her newly acquired book, the words had all started to look funny and blurred; melting into each other, sliding off the page, and hurting her head so badly she had to sit, close her eyes and count up to ten before she felt she could open them once more.

What could she do? As a stake of purgatory, proud furniture to Ushiromiya Ange, she couldn't get sick; it was unprofessional! Besides, if her sisters knew, they'd all tease her.

The thought alone was enough to make Belphegor's face flush, her breathing becoming heavy.

No…

She wouldn't tell them.

She didn't want to look weak.

Her eyesight wasn't so awful she couldn't see where she was going, so complaining about it seemed a little silly. Maybe she was just being paranoid, making a mountain out of a molehill?

Belphegor didn't want anybody to worry about her.

She would be fine.

* * *

><p>"Hey, have you noticed something a little… off… about Belphie?" Asmodeus asked Lucifer, concern evident in her voice.<p>

Lucifer, ever the mature big sister, remained impassive- though it was obvious, by the tone of her voice, she was worried.

"Yes. I have. It happened gradually- but I notice she no longer reads as much as she used to, and it was one of her favourite hobbies… And she seems distracted; almost as if something's bothering her."

"She keeps rubbing her eyes, too. They look all red round the edges," Asmodeus fretted, tugging at one of her pigtails. "I think everybody knows something's wrong…"

"The others have been teasing her about it, haven't they?" said Lucifer, sighing.

"Yeah… Big sis Satan snapped at Belphie when she tripped and fell over, and Mammon seems to think the whole thing is really hilarious… I don't think they take it that seriously." Asmodeus frowned, still tugging at her hair. "But Belphie doesn't make mistakes like that usually… I think it could be really serious."

"If we've noticed, then it can't have escaped Miss Ange's attention. We'll have to tell her of this, and then perhaps something can be done. I hope Belphegor isn't too proud to accept our help, though."

Asomdeus giggled.

"W-what's so funny?" Lucifer looked slightly unsettled by this laughter, even though she was attempting to remain cool and aloof. "Did I do something wrong…?"

"No~ Fufufu~ It's just kind of hypocritical for _you_ to call anybody 'too proud', Luci…"

Lucifer's face flushed light pink. "O-oh, be quiet!"

* * *

><p>"To be honest, I noticed that as well," said Ange, looking between the eldest and youngest sisters of purgatory. "I thought Belphegor seemed a bit off… Her eyes don't look entirely normal, either…"<p>

"Don't they?"

"Oh yes, that's right!" said Asmodeus. "They've gone all cloudy, sort of- kind of yellow? Haven't you noticed, Luci?"

Lucifer looked a little embarrassed at her failure to spot that fact. "Well, no, but… I-I am very busy, being the oldest sister, you know?"

"It's okay," said Asmodeus, resting a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "You try your best~"

"Somehow, I feel like you're insulting me…"

Ange cleared her throat, trying to break up an argument that was already threatening to begin. It was rare for the oldest and youngest sister to bond, and it was heart-warming to see they'd come together in concern over Belphegor- but it was an unsteady truce that wouldn't last long.

Sisters were like that.

Just look at Kyrie and Kasumi…

"I think there might be a problem with Belphegor's eyesight. The change in color of her eyes is proof of this… I mean, I'm no good at biology, but I would safely say that's the truth."

It was a little ironic, really. Eva had paid for Ange to be sent to one of the best schools (not that money meant much to Ushiromiya Eva), and yet, despite that, Ange's intelligence was still only average. Perhaps it was because Ange spent most of her school life trying to run and hide from the groups of cruel, gossiping girls who all hated her so she didn't have enough time to study seriously. Ange had never felt at home in that horrible place.

Home? Ha.

It was more like a prison.

Ange was far happier with the seven sisters- living back at her parents' old house once she was free of her compulsory education and her obsessive desire to discover the truth, which had almost consumed her.

"Belphegor may refuse to tell me what's wrong, but I'll have to keep questioning her about it. I would hate for something to happen to her," said Ange decisively, getting to her feet. "I'll go and talk to her. We'll see what happens from there on…"

"Yes, m'am," said Lucifer, bowing her head.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, just smiled and said 'okay, Ange!~' in a very disrespectful way that made Lucifer scowl.

Ange, however, only smiled.

"I just have one question, though… If demons such as yourself suffer from bad eyesight, what do you do? It's not like you can see a human doctor…"

"You know, the thought never crossed my mind. Perhaps that's a drawback of being a demon," said Lucifer thoughtfully. "I suppose you could try and use magic, but most witches, sorcerers and demons only specialize in one certain branch of magic, like creation or voyaging between worlds. Trying to magically alter a serious medical condition might only make it worse, especially if you had no idea what you were actually doing…"

Ange smiled. "It seems bad health care is a pretty big problem everywhere."

Lucifer nodded. Asmodeus, however, who preferred watching children's cartoons and romance movies as opposed to the news, merely looked confused.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **And so starts another longer story in this collection, similar to the sickness/festival 'arc', but this time the story suddenly turns Umineko into a medical drama XDD  
>Finally got to uploading the request by The Fan of Games, yay. I hope you enjoy it. I've finished about 5 of the parts, but I think there will be 7 overall o:<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	93. A sight for sore eyes, part 2

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #93: A sight for sore eyes, Part 2

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is okay? I-I mean, I don't want to be a burden! There's nothing wrong with me, honestly, I could still fulfil my duties as furniture without-"<p>

"Be quiet," said Ange, putting her hands on her hips. Her voice was commanding; falling slightly short of _terrifying_, even to a Stake of Purgatory like Belphegor.

Ange had managed to perfect that voice after spending so much time with Amakusa. He said so many stupid things it was impossible not to develop a kind of intolerance against idiocy.

Belphegor's face flushed light pink. "B-but, M-milady-"

"I already told you not to call me that when we're in public," Ange hissed.

"O-oh… I'm sorry…"

"And stop _apologizing _for everything. I told you it was alright; I don't mind that you need help, so stop pulling that face. It'll be okay… Okay?"

Belphegor still didn't look convinced. Her eyes were trained on the train tracks before her. Ange had a horrible feeling Belphegor might, if her crushing embarrassment grew any worse, try and throw herself onto them.

Instinctively, Ange reached forward and took hold of Belphegor's side ponytail.

"W-what?"

"I'm just making sure," said Ange, her grip tightening. "I can imagine you doing something ridiculous like that… You take your pride far too seriously- but don't commit _suicide_ because of it."

"I-I'm not the Stake of Pride," said Belphegor softly. "That's Lucifer… You're talking to the wrong person."

"Yes, but Lucifer's not the one with the poor eyesight who refused to tell anybody because she didn't want to be 'a burden', is she?"

"U-um…"

Ange relented slightly as she saw the soft blush on Belphegor's face. Maybe she'd been a bit harsh...

"Don't worry. Something like that isn't your fault so you shouldn't be so worried," said Ange, trying her best to sound consoling. It was a little difficult, given so few people in her life had been 'consoling' towards her, but she tried. "You should have told us earlier before it became so bad, though."

"I…" Belphegor frowned, looking down at her shoes. "I… I-I didn't want to bother you…"

"It's no bother. Don't think you can't talk to me if you have any problems; I don't bite."

Ange knew how awful it felt not being able to confide in anyone if you had a problem; how sad it felt suffering by yourself, knowing nobody cared… or if they found out, they'd just make fun of you; turn it against you. Ange didn't think anybody should have to feel that cornered or trapped.

Ange certainly didn't want her friends to feel like that.

Maybe she looked a bit unapproachable sometimes… but she did care. She really did.

Ange… had never had any friends before.

That was why Ange was trying so hard to ensure she did everything correctly. She was taking Belphegor to see an optician regarding her deteriorating eyesight, and she would pay for it all (life was made somewhat simpler when you were rich, and Ange had inherited all of Eva's money when she died). It was difficult for Belphegor to retain her corporeal human form around such a large crowd of humans, all of whom possessed vast quantities of anti-magic toxin, but Ange's own magic was strong enough to counteract most of the negative effects. Even so, Belphegor looked a pale, a little short of breath, and incredibly worried…

Though that could have been general fear/paranoia.

Ange hoped she didn't get sick from their trip.

"Oh… I can hear the train," said Ange, turning her head. "It's on time… for once."

Belphegor sighed.

"It _would_ be reliable the one time I wish it wasn't..."


	94. A sight for sore eyes, part 3

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #94: A sight for sore eyes, Part 3

* * *

><p>"Ah, yes… Hm… This <em>does<em> look bad."

"W-what does?"

"Very bad indeed…"

"What looks bad? W-well, my eyes, obviously, but what's wrong with them?"

The doctor inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "For it to be _this_ advanced…"

By this point Belphegor was trembling so much it was wonder the doctor couldn't hear her spinal column jangling together at her jerky, awkward motions. If she hadn't been so horribly afraid she might have been rather angry. She had gone through a strenuous series of examinations, lights being shone into her eyes whilst she was told to read out lines of blurry characters, and _still_- despite her obvious nerves- nobody would tell her what was wrong. Belphegor half thought the doctor was withholding information on purpose just to make her feel even more helpless- but maybe that was a paranoid thought.

But she couldn't muster the energy to be angry about it.

Luckily, Ange could had enough anger for two people.

"Excuse me, doctor," she said in her cold voice that could make blood freeze, "but my friend is seriously worried and you're only making it worse. _**Ha**_. You must be some kind of sadist to postpone the diagnosis for _this_ long." Ange tossed a few strands of red hair behind one shoulder. "We're not on a quiz show, you know. I'm going to wait until after the commercial break for the answer- so _hurry up and do your job._"

Belphegor looked at Ange in awe and mouthed a small 'thank you' at the seething girl. The Stake of Sloth knew she would never be able to address somebody in such a forceful manner; she was only furniture, after all, so she couldn't afford to be rude. Even during Beatrice's games on Rokkenjima, when she had ricocheted through the hallways of the mansion staking various members of the Ushiromiya family, she had done so with a quiet, apologetic sort of grace- 'please don't mind me too much, I'm only doing my job. I don't _really _hate you.'

It was becoming apparent years of being alternately tortured by her 'loving aunt' and the girls at her school had left Ange with an iron will; strength and determination that simply could not be shaken.

Belphegor admired that.

Maybe she was a little jealous, too- even though that was Leviathan's job.

"A-alright, Miss," said the doctor, holding his hands up in a defensive motion. "I do apologize; I was thinking aloud. I didn't mean to cause any distress."

"It's okay…" said Belphegor, looking down at her lap. "I understand. But… can you tell me what's wrong, please?"

"I can, but you won't like it."

"I've been through worse…"

"Then that's a quite a pity; a nice girl like you. Ahem." The doctor cleared his throat, and then looked at Belphegor over the top of his glasses. "Miss, I am afraid to inform you that you have a rather advanced form of cataracts."

Belphegor's eyes grew wider and wider (regardless, her vision remained blurry).

"W-what does that mean?"

"It means if, left untreated, you would become blind."

Belphegor collapsed back into her chair in shock, her eyes stinging horribly, heart pounding, head hurting.

She couldn't _afford_ to have such a severe medical condition; not when she was furniture made by a witch. Furniture couldn't have any imperfections! Nobody would buy a table or chair missing a leg, and it was a similar king of logic Belphegor applied to her plight. If her body was damaged then she would be worthless.

Junk.

Or, even worse- Belphegor winced at the thought- she wouldn't be thrown aside, but she would become a _burden._

She would be… useless.

And all her sisters would laugh.

"I am afraid to say the cataracts have advanced to the point where non surgical methods of correction would be entirely inefficient. You will have to have surgery to remove the cataractous lens at a hospital- and as soon as possible. I can't understand why you didn't come to me sooner; this could have been corrected far easier."

Belphegor sank down into her chair, trying to curl up on herself; willing her body out of existence. Her face was red with shame. She hadn't wanted to worry Ange with such a small problem- but that problem had only grown bigger and bigger, until she would have to have _surgery_… and it was all her fault.

Well… Belphegor forced a bitter smile. At least this would be something funny for the others to laugh about.

"Belphegor," said Ange worriedly, placing a hand on the stake's shoulder, "are you alright?"

"O-oh, yes," Belphegor said, nodding her head. "D-don't worry. I'm just… I… Excuse me." Belphegor turned towards the doctor. "How would they remove the… problem?"

"They would cut it out."

"C-cut?"

"But don't be alarmed- you would be under anaesthetic throughout the whole procedure. There's a 90% success rate."

Belphegor felt sick.

"O-only 90%...?"

So, even if a doctor _did _go jabbing about in her eyes with something sharp and pointy (Belphegor began to imagine a drill like something on a robot from a mecha anime, even though she knew she was being ridiculous) there was still a 10% chance she'd just go blind anyway! The doctor said '90%' as though it was something to be proud of, but as the Stake of Sloth, a hard-working perfectionist, Belphegor would never accept '90%' as being _anywhere near _good enough; especially not when it came to something as delicate as her eyes.

It would hurt- i-it might really hurt, a-and _90%_- just a paltry 90…

Belphegor felt her heartbeat spike in her chest.

Now she knew _exactly_ how all her victims had felt as she accosted them in her deadly stake form.

Vulnerable.

Frightened.

And above all, completely helpless.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Late update o: I had stuff to do. Like musing over the pros and cons of throwing myself off a bridge XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	95. A sight for sore eyes, part 4

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #95: A sight for sore eyes, Part 4

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>sure<em> you're okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine!"

"But that falter in your voice makes me think you're lying," said Ange, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to repeat that in red truth?"

"We can't do that, we're on a train."

"Then try to read that sign over there. Prove you're not lying," said Ange, pointing.

Belphegor squinted, peering desperately at the sign Ange had motioned to, but the words were too small. They had all blurred into one; a big black mess that made her head hurt trying to decipher.

"U-um… It says… No eating and drinking on the train?" Belphegor suggested.

It would either be that, or something about women watching out for perverts. The former seemed like the best guess, though.

Ange merely made a 'tch' sound, pursing her lips.

"Lucky guess."

"It wasn't a guess," Belphegor lied, and feeling rather awful for doing so. "I'm fine now, honestly, maybe I've recovered…"

"And how, pray tell, did you suddenly, _miraculously _recover from being **blind** in the space of five minutes?" Ange whispered under her breath, compensating for her low volume by adding so much venom into her voice her signature move, if she were a Pokémon, would probably-definitely have been 'poison sting'.

Belphegor looked at Ange from under her bangs, frowning.

"Magic."

Ange groaned and hit her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Don't try and make me deny magic over something so trivial."

"My eyesight is _trivial_, now, is it?"

"Of course not- that's why I keep talking about it, because I don't want you to get hurt, but you're being so thick-headed about it it's putting _Mammon _to shame. I can't dispute your 'magical recovery' theory, though, because I might accidentally _kill you._"

Belphegor smiled a little to herself.

It was nice to know she had an ace to play. It was the same unfair, underhanded, potentially suicidal move that had made Ange drop the subject earlier, and got them on the train going back home.

Belphegor knew Ange was worried. That was the only reason why she was angry. But why couldn't Ange understand how _she_ felt?

It was because other people thought 90% was quite high, when to Belphegor it wasn't high enough at all.

It was because it wasn't _Ange_ who was going to go blind.

And it was because Ange cared so much she didn't want to listen to what Belphegor had to say.

Belphegor sighed, hugging her knees to her chest; falling, fatigued, against Ange's side without even realizing it. Remaining corporeal amongst so much anti-magic toxin for so long was really, really exhausting- especially when Ange had begun to skirt around the problem of whether she was truly existed or not.

Belphegor yawned.

She felt… so tired… …

* * *

><p>"So what was wrong with Belphe?" asked Asmodeus, looking down at the form of her sleeping sister. "Is she okay now? She looks kind of… sick…?"<p>

"It's cause she's a little squirt who doesn't eat nearly enough," said Mammon, voice indistinct as she bit into an apple. "That's why she can't keep her human form up for too long."

"But if there's less of her, surely it would take less magic to remain corporeal?" Asmodeus suggested sweetly.

Mammon's eye twitched. "H-hey, are you calling me fat?"

"Who, me? Of course, hehehe!~"

"Oh yeah? Well, _nyehh_." Mammon stuck out her tongue. Bits of half-masticated apple were visible in her mouth, making Asmodeus wince. "You hardly have the body of a gravure model yourself, Asmo."

"T-that's so mean! I could be a model if I wanted to!"

"Yeah, if they put a bag over your head first!"

"What's this about Belphegor?" asked Lucifer, materializing into Belphegor's bedroom and- thus- drawing the attention back to the sickly stake once more, where it rightfully belonged. "What was wrong with her, Ange?"

Ange sighed, massaging her temples with her fingertips.

"Oh, she's going to go blind."

A chorus of three "Ehs?" filled the room- a disbelief loud enough to draw Satan and Beelzebub from whatever they had been doing into Belphegor's bedroom as well. Leviathan, however, was in the bathtub, and quite unable to find her clothes or a towel, given somebody (whose name started and ended with 'M') had stolen them for a 'funny' practical joke and then forgotten all about it.

"Belphe can't go blind!" Beelzebub fretted, knotting her fingers together in worry. "Who'll ball up my socks for me?"

"Don't be selfish," snapped Satan, glaring at the blonde stake. "This isn't about **you**."

"Hey, I'm worried, too! Don't pretend you're worrying more just because you do it in an angrier way!" said Beelzebub, hands on hips. "I was just trying to diffuse the tension!"

"Then you did a pretty poor job of it, didn't you?"

"Did you get it sorted out?" asked Lucifer, ever the mature sister, as she clapped a hand over Beelzebub's mouth to prevent her from further provoking Lucifer.

"No. I wanted to, but Belphegor was being so _stubborn_. She refused my help…" Ange sighed. "I-I don't know what to do!"

"Ange, don't worry!" Mammon was at her best (and first) friend's side in a matter of nanoseconds, pulling the usually stoic Ange into a much needed hug. "We can easily get Belphe to change her mind, right?"

Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub and Asmodeus nodded.

"You can count on us, Ange," said Lucifer. "We won't let you down."

"Huh? But I tried to talk to her, and…" Ange sniffed. "How are _you_ going to help?"

"There's only _one_ of you, Ange, and there are _five_ of us," said Mammon, forgetting Leviathan completely. So did everybody else, apparently, because they didn't raise the issue of there being a missing sister not factored into the mix. "If anybody can wear our dear sister down, it's us."


	96. A sight for sore eyes, part 5

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #96: A sight for sore eyes, Part 5

* * *

><p>"Hey, Belphe!~ Good mornin'!"<p>

Belphegor yawned. She blinked, trying to correct her fuzzy just-woken-up-and-not-really-awake vision- before she realized, with a cold chill, that her vision would_ always_ be that awful no matter how many times she blinked. It was a nasty shock she'd received every morning for the past few months and she hadn't really gotten used to it.

"Good morning… Beelze?"

"Yep, yep!~ That's me~" said Beelzebub brightly, beaming.

There was something odd about that scenario. What was it…?

Oh yes.

Beelzebub _never_ woke up earlier than Belphegor. Not unless there was a half price sale going on at the luxury chocolate shop down the road or it was the end of the world.

Belphegor stifled another yawn. "What time is it…?"

"Eleven!~"

"_Eleven?_" Belphegor squeaked in panic. "I-I have to get out of bed- I've been here too long; ahh, the day's practically _over_ already! I can't believe I've been so lazy…" Her face flushed. "I-I must apologize to Miss Ange, and then-"

"No, it's okay, don't apologize! Sit down." Beelzebub's voice was kind, understanding.

That was most unusual. Belphegor was already getting suspicious.

"If you want me to taste test some weird 'culinary masterpiece' you've made by putting the contents of our fridge into the blender again-"

"No, it's not that- not that at all! Where would you get such an idea, Belphe?"

"Um… because you actually _did_ that a few weeks ago and it made me really ill."

"Nonsense!~ I don't know what you're talking about~" said Beelzebub, smiling blithely. "Anyways, Miss Ange said you could stay in bed today because you were forced to remain corporeal for so long yesterday amidst such high levels of anti magic toxin. I think you have a fever, too. That's why I've brought you breakfast in bed!"

Belphegor's face (already pale) turned ashen. Beelzebub wasn't a bad cook- not at all- but she frequented to 'experimenting' so often her more ambitious meals were rarely edible.

"Oh, don't worry, Ronove made it for you. I paid a visit to him a while ago and told him about your dreadful predicament and he was only too happy to help, hehe~ Eat it; it's really good!~ N-not that I ate_ too_ much of it first, just a little, but you can forgive me, right?~ I had to test it for, um, anthrax, you know? Ahahahaha!"

"Ah… O-okay… Tell Ronove I said thank you."

"What am I, a messenger girl?," said Beelzebub, giggling, as she deposited the tray on Belphegor's bed side table. "He left you a note; 'get well' and all. If you want to be polite, just write a quick response on the back of it. I think it would be **really rude** if you didn't, but that's just me!~ Hihihi~ Alright, see you!"

Belphegor- her eyesight horribly blurred- reached for the note. She stared.

The words looked like a bunch of drunken spiders trying to play tag.

_I-I can't __even read this! How on earth can I write a reply?_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Belphie!~" Asmodeus said brightly, materialising in Belphegor's room in a swirl of golden butterflies. "How you holding up?"<p>

"I'm alright, thank you." Belphegor flushed slightly in embarrassment. "I think you're all m-making a big deal out of nothing, i-it's fine… T-there's nothing wrong… I just want to go back to work."

"You shouldn't push yourself too hard, it's bad for you. You need to do something to relax, like… Oh, I know!" Asmodeus smiled brightly. "I was writing a few stories and I know you love to read, so maybe… They're not very good- I mean, _**I **_think they're brilliant but even _Zepar and Furfur _said they were overly theatrical, which was really mean!- but you might like them. I'll leave them beside your bed, okay? Tell me what you think!~"

"T-that's fine," said Belphegor, "but, Asmo-"

"Okay!~ See you!~ Have a super fun relaxing time. And don't forget to tell me what you think of my story, okay, because I worked really hard. I want some feedback or I'll be _really disappointed_!"

Belphegor felt her head pound with the beginnings of a headache.

_How can I relax now__ when people want me to give my opinion on things I physically _can't _see! I-I don't want to disappoint anybody, but… this is really impossible!_

* * *

><p>"Belphe, Belphe, look, look!" said Mammon energetically, all but waltzing about Belphegor's room in excitement. "I dyed my hair a few shades lighter! Doesn't it look pretty? Gaap told me blonder hair is all in fashion, so I changed it, and I think it's awesome!~ It's awesome isn't it, right? Uhuhuu!"<p>

Belphegor squinted at Mammon, staring with all her might, willing the haze around her vision to clear up slightly…

But nothing happened.

The fog only thickened, if anything- and now Belphegor's eyes were aching, too.

She couldn't see that there was any difference.

"Hey, Belphe, Belphe… what do you think of my hair?" Mammon asked once more, now frowning. "Doesn't it look good?"

_I don't know! I seriously can't tell- it doesn't look any different!_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry to ask for your help, Belphegor, especially as you are bedridden, but I feel you are the only one I can turn to for help with this rather delicate matter," said Lucifer, her voice proper and polite as always. "I fear the others may find my new hobby amusing, and though I don't care what they say, I'm aware it would save me some grief if I asked the most responsible of my sisters for help first."<p>

Belphegor smiled slightly with pride. Was she really the most responsible…? Well, she _knew_ that she was (you only had to watch one of Mammon and Beelzebub's 'eat as much as you can until you get sick!' contests to realize that), but it was nice being told so all the same.

"Of course I'll help you. What appears to be the matter?"

If she got to make her proud big sister slothful by solving all her problems, that was fine, too~

"I've recently taken up needlework. I find it very relaxing," Lucifer explained, "but- and this is a bit of a problem… I-I don't like asking for help, okay, but at this point it's beginning to drive me mad! Can you thread this needle for me?"

Belphegor felt her heart sink like a stone.

_No. I really, really can't. I can't even __**see**__ the needle __**or **__the thread; how the hell am I meant to put them together?_

_Can't people solve their own damn problems for once?_

* * *

><p>"Hey. Belphegor."<p>

"Hm? What is it, Satan?"

Emotionlessly, Satan said, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

* * *

><p>"'How many fingers am I holding up?'" Mammon said, rolling her eyes. "Geez. That was <em>pathetic<em>. At least we _tried_ to think of good excuses to make Belphe strain her eyesight."

"I don't know," said Lucifer patiently, "sometimes the simpler methods of attack are the most effective."

The loud, resultant scream from Belphegor's room soon proved Lucifer's hypothesis correct.


	97. A sight for sore eyes, part 6

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #97: A sight for sore eyes, Part 6

* * *

><p>"What's wrong, Belphegor?" asked Ange, sitting down beside the put-upon girl. "Why are you screaming?"<p>

"You **know** why!" Belphegor shouted, her eyes filling with tears. "You **know**!"

"…You've gone crazy?" Mammon suggested sweetly.

Lucifer hit Mammon upside the head. Tact had never been Mammon's strong point. She was exactly the sort of person who'd start laughing at a funeral.

"Oh, **ha ha**, really _funny_," spat Belphegor. Her eyes were small slits; face bright red; hands clenched at her sides. "You've been doing this on _purpose_, haven't you? You've all been making fun of me- laughing behind my back, thinking you're _so clever_, because I-I've got a serious medical condition and you haven't! It's fun to laugh at people who are suffering, isn't it? Well, _**I**_ don't think it's very funny at all! I-I… I-I-I…"

Belphegor's voice fragmented, trailed away, broke apart into nothingness and died.

She was shaking.

"Belphegor," said Ange gently, "we're not trying to make fun of you. That wasn't our intention. We only did it because we were worried about you."

"W-worried? What do you mean, _worried_?" Belphegor asked, pushing Ange away from her roughly. "_I'm _the one who's worried; **I'm **the one who's going to… to… t-to _go blind_; you don't know how I'm feeling **at all**! You have no right to be worried!"

"We're worried about _you_."

"W-well, if you cared so much, then maybe you should look at everything from _my _perspective!"

"I can't; everything would look all hazy and blurry if I did that," said Mammon flippantly.

"Oh, that's SO funny- you're really hilarious, Mammon!" Belphegor said, voice rising in pitch. It was almost hysterical. "Didn't you hear what the doctor said? He said there was a chance of it **failing**. I might end up even worse than before! But that's something we should _laugh _about, is it?"

"You won't know it'll fail until you've tried it," said Ange. "Why are you so being so _stubborn_? I know you're used to not letting people care about you, so maybe it's a shock to realize I actually do worry about you, but it's true- you can rely on me!"

"You can't rely on a 90% chance of success; it's just _not good enough_! Why does nobody understand that?"

"Well, it's better than becoming completely blind, isn't it? Are you stupid or something? I don't want one of my friends to be hurt!"

"You didn't care about that when you denied our existence back at your school, did you? You're sending out mixed messages, Milady!"

The assembled stakes all flinched. Asmodeus and Beelzebub were beginning to look a little tearful now; both of them hugging each other tightly for some kind of comfort. No matter what snide comments they said, they didn't _really_ like it when everybody was fighting.

"W-why would you even bring that up?" Ange snapped, her voice livid. "That was that and this is this and they're completely different! I **don't **want you to get hurt again! Stop talking like this! Why are you behaving so irrationally?"

"Because I'm _**scared!**_"

The room filled with deathly silence. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. The only sound audible was Belphegor's heavy, ragged breathing.

All of a sudden, Belphegor's eyes snapped open so they were impossibly wide. It was as though she had emerged from a trance. She finally realized what she had just said.

Had she really… spoken to Ange like that?

Belphegor's lower lip trembled.

And then she began to cry.

"Belphegor… Oh, you _idiot_."

Sighing, Ange reached forwards and pulled the trembling stake into a hug.

"Don't be upset," said Ange. Her voice was slightly awkward, stilted. She wasn't used to talking to people- let along comforting them- so it was a little difficult, but…

She was doing her best.

As Belphegor's 'master' (though Ange preferred to use the term 'friend'), Ange had to cheer her up. Belphegor might have felt it was her responsibility to follow Ange's orders, but relationships were two way systems where _both _parties had to try and help the other.

Belphegor didn't seem to have realized that.

"Everybody gets… frightened, you know?"

"Yeah," said Mammon, "like Satan. Everybody's afraid of her."

"W-why you-"

"Shut up!" Ange snapped, glaring at the two stakes. "You're not helping. Go away, Mammon, or you'll screw everything up like usual!"

"H-huh, but, Ange, I was only trying to-"

"Piss me off and upset Belphe! You can stay, but let _me_ do the sentimental stuff, okay? You have about as much sympathy in you as a _rock_."

Mammon looked somewhat abashed; maybe even hurt. "But… I always used to comfort you…"

Ange's face flushed red. "D-don't bring that up! If you do, I'll make you wish you were never born."

"Created," Belphegor corrected, almost on autopilot. Even through her tears she was still a pedant.

"Created, then," said Ange, nodding. "But, Belphegor… Everybody gets afraid from time to time. It's… perfectly normal."

"B-but I'm a Stake of Purgatory and I-"

"Still have feelings, like everybody else. It's even worse if… when something bad happens…" Ange's expression darkened. "You try to ignore it. Because the problem doesn't disappear. It'll just grow and grow, until you can't deal with it anymore. That's how it works."

"Ange…?"

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is… you can't bury your head in the sand and wait for a miracle, because miracles don't happen very often." Ange's lip curled. "And the witch who delivers them is the cruellest bitch I've ever met, even worse than Aunt Kasumi."

"I-I'll keep that in mind," said Belphegor, hiccoughing a little. "B-but… I-I… I don't want to become worthless. I… don't want to get sick, or become a burden…"

"You're not a burden at all," said Ange.

"That's right!~ You're our sister and we love you!" said Asmodeus.

"Yep! I might like you, ooh, let's see… second best in the world, after Ronove's cooking!"

"Where does that put me, then?" asked Satan.

"…On the list of things I like you would be number five hundred and three."

"Grr…"

"Oh, no, make that five hundred and four."

"Alright, Beelze, you're _asking _for this! Get back here!"

"Kyahhh! Satan's gonna kill me! Save me, Asmo!"

"Don't use me as a human shield, dummy!"

"You think that would stop me? If I have to murder her to get at you, I will- you know I will!"

"If I die without ever being swept away by my Prince Charming because of YOU, Beelze, I will haunt you from beyond the grave! Let go of me!"

"Noooo! Don't leave me to DIE!"

"You three," said Lucifer, sighing, "can't you be more mature? This is a serious problem, and-"

But Lucifer's voice was cut off by the sound of weak laughter.

The stakes and Ange turned to look at Belphegor. Despite her tears that still wouldn't stop, she was smiling.

"Belphie?"

"O-okay… I-I suppose you win." Belphegor sighed, wiping her tears away with the back of her arm. "M-maybe I was being irrational. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. I-I wanted to do the exact opposite, really… A-and now…" Her face flushed. "I just made it worse, didn't I?"

Mammon nodded and opened her mouth, but a stern look from Ange shut her up.

"It's fine. As long as you get your eyesight all fixed up then… I'll be happy. That's all I wanted to do anyway," said Ange. "And that's not because you're my 'furniture' or whatever, and it's not like varnishing a table. It's taking care of a _friend_. Don't feel like you owe me."

Ange had never really had any friends to help before. The knowledge she was finally able to help others was payment enough.

"Y-yes… Alright." Belphegor nodded. "Of course. I will… go to the hospital… and ask for an appointment."

"And we'll come with you, of course," said Lucifer, hands on her hips.

"H-huh?" Belphegor looked at her sisters in amazement. "Is this for… moral support?"

Satan rolled her eyes.

"No, you useless cretin. It's so you don't run away again."


	98. A sight for sore eyes, part 7

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #98: A sight for sore eyes, Part 7

* * *

><p>"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"<p>

Belphegor was trembling so badly she could hardly remain standing. It was a good thing her sisters were there to keep her propped up, or else she might have keeled over head first onto the floor.

"Do you feel any better, Belphe?" asked Beelzebub, looking at her sister with worry. "You're all pale, like a corpse or something, and that's kind of not a good look!"

"Of _course_ she's pale, she just had a serious operation," snapped Satan. "Honestly, Beelze, where's your **brain**?"

"…You get brain power from fish, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

Beelzebub shrugged. "I dunno, but I'm hungry."

Satan sighed and slapped her palm over her face. Honestly, some people…

"Are you happy we came with you?" Asmodeus asked cheerfully, taking hold of Belphegor's hand.

Belphegor flushed a little, looking down at her feet. She didn't want to admit she'd needed their company (when she obviously, desperately _had_) or they might start teasing her. What if her sisters started to think she was weak? It had already been accepted that 'everybody has problems' and 'you shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for help', but asking went against nature of Belphegor's being!

But saying 'no, I'm not happy you came with me' would have been rude.

Oh, dilemmas, dilemmas.

The world was far too complicated for Belphegor to keep up with it.

"I think she _did_ need our help," said Mammon, giggling, as she tugged gently on Belphegor's ponytail. "Did you see the way she was holding onto Ange's hand, even when she was all passed out from aesthetic? It was so cute! I thought she was going to break all of Ange's fingers, hehe~"

Belphegor's face turned dark red. She ducked her head, trying to hide behind her hair.

"Aww, Belphie, stop being so adorable," Mammon chided, tugging a little harder on her ponytail. "You're acting just like a character from a dating sim! You'd be the shy shrinking violet the player has to tread really carefully around or they'll never open your route!"

"Perhaps you should take your own advice to heart and stop bothering her, then," said Ange, glaring at Mammon.

"U-um, of course! Yes, Ange."

Ange turned back to Belphegor, a faint smile alighting on her lips. Belphegor was alright- and that was all she cared about. In the end, it really had worked out very well after all.

Except…

"I-I know it's a petty complaint, and I should be thankful for my health, but… I don't really feel comfortable wearing these."

Belphegor raised her head and pushed her bangs out of her eyes, showing Ange her prescription glasses. Belphegor's face was pink.

"But you only need to wear them when you're reading or whatever, right?" asked Asmodeus.

"I know, but I thought I should try them on…" Belphegor frowned slightly, taking off her glasses and fiddling with them. "They feel a little strange…"

"What's the problem? I think they make you look pretty cool!~" said Asmodeus.

"R-really?"

"Yes, they suit you," said Lucifer. "They compliment your… um… Your… let's see, um…"

"Your hardworking image!" Beezlebub finished, giving Belphegor a thumbs up.

"You think they suit me? They don't… look weird?" Belphegor looked between her sisters with eyes slightly wider than usual, ponytail fluttering behind her in the breeze. "Y-you're not going to make fun of me, are you?"

Mammon giggled. "Probably, yeah, but not this very second. I wouldn't want to give you a complex or anything."

"A-as if anything you could say would hurt me _that_ deeply! My feelings aren't _that_ fragile…"

"Ohoho~ Then can I start insulting you now? I've been thinking of a lot of glasses-related humor and- ow! Ange, that was mean! What was _that _for?"

"For being insensitive," Ange replied, folding her arms. "Don't tease Belphegor. I don't want her thinking she can't ask us for help again."

"It worked out okay this time, though, didn't it?" said Asmodeus brightly. "If this was a game this would be a 100% perfect ending, right?"

"I don't know," said Mammon seriously, "did we rescue the princess and find all the keys?"

Asmodeus squealed in faux alarm. "Oh no! I forgot about the princess and the keys! Kyahhhh! We only completed part of the mission!"

"Finding the Elixir of Sight was the most important part, though- and now Belphegor can join our melee team again to take down those hideous fire bugs!"

"I hate those fire bugs!"

Lucifer looked between Asmodeus and Mammon in confusion. "…What on earth are you talking about?"

The two younger stakes began to laugh amongst themselves at their bizarre inside joke- and their laughter must have been contagious, because in time everybody looked noticeably brighter.

Even Belphegor.

Maybe having so many sisters wasn't a bad thing in the end…

"Alright, since we did so well on that mission- we didn't even need to hold Belphe down or cast petrify on her or anything- why don't we get something to eat?"

"Is food all you ever think about?" asked Satan, rolling her eyes.

"Yes!~" said Beelzebub, with not a trace of irony. "I want some taiyaki! It's shaped like a fish so that's brain food, right?"

"I don't think that's how it works…" said Lucifer dubiously.

"Oh, whatever; who cares about the details? I want something unhealthy and fried!"

"You better watch outttt," said Mammon, prodding Beelzebub in the stomach, "or _you'll _be the one who has to go to the hospital next when you're morbidly obsese."

"Your heart could always explode first, though," Asmodeus said cheerfully.

"E-eh?" Beelzebub pouted. "No way! D-don't say things like that! You're so mean!"

Belphegor giggled to herself softly.

It was a little difficult to be so unhappy in such a large group.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Leviathan sighed as she rolled over in her bed, pulling her pillow over her head.<p>

Everybody had forgotten about her _again._

W-was she really that invisible?

* * *

><p><strong>A sight for sore eyes<strong>

**End**

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Haha unlike the other groups of oneshots in here this got a definitive 'the end' because it had more of a 'plot', I guess.  
>And it was focused on one character.<br>Yeah I actually had to research some stuff to write this, like what illnesses would be able to ruin the eyesight to the point of near blindness and then how to treat it. But I also had to keep in mind Umineko is set like 30 years ago so modern medicine =/= medicine in the Uminekoverse.

And also…

Aaa I'm sorry I've left this collection for a few days. I got really obsessed with Tiger & Bunny, which might be favourite fandom now, so my love for Umineko is waning a little. I might not write any more shorts for this collection- but don't worry, I still have like 120 of them on my computer I haven't posted yet XD;; Updates might be every other day instead of every day though ^^'' Also there's a pretty good chance my obsession with Umineko will return if I reread the VNs or the manga so it's not like this is the end for this fic at all XDD;

Deen need to hurry up and butcher Chiru into an anime so my Umineko love will come back full force though XD;; I mean, do they want me to transfer my great love of Umineko to an anime about superheroes? XDD

Um, anyway, thank you for all your support & the like, & I hope you enjoy the remaining stories in this collection ^^

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	99. Something in the tea

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #99: Something in the tea

* * *

><p>"You know what? You're reaa~aalllyyy pissing me off!"<p>

"Oh. It's nice to see you, Lady Lambdadelta," said Virgilia, setting down her cup of tea with a_ clink. _"That was a very… ahem… interesting… greeting."

"That annoying brat does make a lot of noise, doesn't she?" said Gaap. "Kukuku~ How bothersome."

"Mm, I think this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black here…"

Gaap's eyes widened in faux surprise. "Oh my! I have _no _idea what you mean, Lia!"

"I think you do."

"Hey, guys, guys!" Lambdadelta cried, stamping her foot on the floor. Obviously, she didn't like being ignored; her face had flushed red with anger, and her cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel's. "I told you I was really angry! Aren't you going to ask whyyy? I'm, like, your guest now! This is so rude!"

"I didn't invite you to this tea party," said Beatrice, looking at Lambdadelta coldly. "You invited yourself. You're not my guest at all. Therefore, I don't have to be polite to you."

"Urgh! Hold your tongue, Beato! You forget you're talking to the Great Lady Lambdadelta, the Witch of Certainty, the highest ranked witch in the senate-"

"Until your position was claimed by Lady Bernkastel," Beatrice cut in, a smirk splitting across her face.

"W-why you-"

"Ah, yes. I doubt a highly esteemed witch such as yourself would try to threaten people based on a position you no longer hold; you're too mature for that," said Ronove smoothly, smiling. "Would you like more tea, Miss Virgilia?"

Virgilia smiled. "That would be lovely, thank-"

"Don't change the subject like that!" Lambdadelta snapped, stalking over to the table and slamming her palms down atop of it. The teacups rattled in their saucers in protest. "You haven't asked me why I'm so angry!"

"…Oh my. That was quite rude of us," said Virgilia without a trace of sarcasm, inclining her head. "Please forgive us. Why are you so angry, Lady Lambdadelta?"

Lambdadelta clasped her hands together and straightened her back. Her eyes flashed with thunder. Then- with a loud roar that could have awoken the sleeping Cthulu from under the ocean- Lambdadelta declared:

"BOOBS!"

There was a very long pause. You could have heard a pin drop. However, nobody had any desire to drop a pin, so such an aphorism was quite wasted. Nevertheless, it was quiet- and that's all you need to know.

It was Gaap who finally broke the silence.

"Boobs, huh?~ Keheheh~ What's wrong with boobs?~~"

"I don't have any and all of you do!" Lambdadelta cried, folding her arms across her chest. "Even an old woman like Virgiila!"

Virgilia's face flushed slightly at this. "O-old woman?"

"It's just not fair!" Lambdadelta continued, glaring at the three women sat in front of her. "Why are you all so disproportionate? Normal woman don't look like that! Did you know the average bust size across the world is a B? But you're all waaay bigger! It's ridiculous! And it's not ONLY you three! It's those stupid seven sisters as well- **and** the bunny girls! I'm the only one with a somewhat _normal _bust size, and I'm completely overshadowed- literally and figuratively- by all of you! In fact, the only person in this room with smaller boobs than me is _Ronove_- and he's a man. Or… he's meant to be a man (but I have my doubts, given how lovely his hair is… Ahem). This is stupid! It's like you're all characters in a hentai designed by some closeted pervert who's never seen a woman before, and I'm your token loli! I, the Great Lady Lambdadelta, shouldn't be a token loli! I'm the only NORMAL one here! And you know what I think?"

Both Beatrice and Virgilia looked incredibly embarrassed by this conversation. Virgilia's arms were folded across her chest, her face flushed bright red, whilst Beatrice had taken to picking at the sleeves of her gown, feigning disinterest. On the contrary, Ronove was smiling pleasantly, and Gaap was cackling to herself like a harpy.

"O-oh my gosh, you're killing me! Awww, Lambda's jealous!~ Gyahahaha!~ Just 'cause she never went through puberty like the rest of us!"

"Now, Miss Gaap, it's not polite to insult others based on their appearance," said Ronove, laying a hand on Gaap's shoulder. "What are your thoughts on this scenario, Lady Lambdadelta?"

Lambdadelta's eyes narrowed.

"I think there's some weird growth hormone in the tea."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Cause you only get two bust sizes in Umineko; non-existent and stupidly big XD People were complaining that the Umineko anime turned all the female characters into fanservice bait, but I think that's a stupid argument… In the original art for the visual novels, pretty much all the female characters looked like that already XD  
>Yeah you get two updates today to make up for lack of updatingness, and cause I like you guys. I like ya a lot XD<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	100. EXTRA: A letter from Beato

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short 100: A Letter from Beato

* * *

><p>Why hello, <em>Renahhchen<em>, kikikikikyahahaha! I am **Beatrice the Golden Witch **and I-

* * *

><p>Ahem.<p>

Let's try this again.

_RENAHHCHEN_! I am BEATRICEEEE the Golden Witch and-

* * *

><p>Okay, third time lucky.<p>

MY NAME IS BEATORIICCHEEEE AND ADJDJDJDSKSKSKSDJHSKDHSDS

* * *

><p>I'm terribly sorry about that, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>. Did that impertinent child accidentally send you a slew of nonsensical, slightly arrogant messages?

I do apologize.

Beato isn't very good at communicating with people in a civil manner, you see, so I was standing over her shoulder to ensure she spoke with the proper manners and etiquette befitting of the Golden Witch. I'm rather glad I decided to do so *giggle*giggle*, because she may have sent you some rather… 'interesting'… messages if I hadn't.

Alright Beato. You can talk to Miss _Renahhchen _yourself now- but please, be polite! It would reflect badly on me, your teacher, if you resorted to your more childish side at this moment. I know you can be better behaved than this.

I believe in you, Beato~

From,  
><em>Virgilia Publius Maro<br>The Finite Witch_

* * *

><p>…Humph.<p>

Gahhh, whatever.

How am I going to write anything with that old hag- u-um, I mean, _lovely young woman- _stood over my shoulder? I'm not a child, you know.

W-what was that, Teacher? I still **act** like one sometimes? W-why you…

Grrrr.

…

Oh, um, a-anyway…

Hello, Miss _Renahhchen_. I apologize for sending you those three unfinished messages that contained lots of shouting, I promise I'll try to be more civilised in this message, bla de bla de blah- are you **happy** now, Teacher?

…Muu. I don't think she's happy.

She's never happy.

She doesn't really love me, you see. It's all an act :

Maybe Teacher's just jealous of me because _I _have a husband and she hasn't, kukuku~ Even if my husband does have stupid hair and he can be a bitttt dense at times; but it's fun having somebody like Battler by my side. I can run rings around him in arguments in _nanoseconds_, heheh :3

So, yes.

I have been reading your collection of short stories, _Renahh_ (what does –chen mean? That's not an honorific at all… And why should I address you with honorifics anyway- even pretendy ones? The great witch Beatrice doesn't need to honor ANYBODY, uhuhu~) and I must say, I… quite enjoy them… I suppose. You managed to capture Lambda perfectly. I wanted to hit her when I read these, which is how I feel about her whenever I'm standing next to her face-to-face as well.

The less said about Lady Bernkastel the better… but I know somebody else who's dying to be introduced to the end of my pipe, fufu.

W-what's that?

Aww, come on, Teacher, don't pull that face- yeah, _that _face, the one that looks like you're going to sneeze! You don't like those two either, do you? I don't care if we've 'reconciled', I'm still allowed to not like them very much!

Geez.

*rolls eyes*

Haha, so, um… where was I?

Oh yes…

I enjoyed your stories quite a bit. They're useful for whiling away time, I suppose- but I _would _like it if you wrote a couple of stories about Battler being humiliated! Just because it's fun, fufufu :3 I mean, I could do that in real life, but I'd like to read about it, too! Also, you should write more stories about me and how ~incredible~ I am, because I'm the leading lady in _Umineko _and you're not giving me nearly enough attention!

I'd settle for being shunted into the background if you could torture Battler a bit though, kikikikikiki!

Ahh, I'm so sweet and self-sacrificing. It must be LOVE, fufufu~~

From  
>The Golden Witch, Beatriceeee<p>

(oh, and Teacher, too.

She's still glaring at me… Jiiiii…

I-it's getting a little creepy now…)

* * *

><p><strong>an: **100th chapter, oh em gee XD  
>Yes, the huge epic 100th chapter idea I had I didn't put in this story eventually because it got so very long and so very convolutedcracky, but I'll still post it as a separate story, and you can read it here if you're interested:  
>http :  / www . fanfiction . net /s/7391595/1/A_Story_from_a_Parallel_Universe


	101. Buildings

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #101: Buildings

* * *

><p><em>Fufufu~ Hey, you know… they build buildings pretty tall nowadays.<em>

Ushiromiya Eva winced slightly. The voice was childish, light as the air, with absolutely no substance… because it didn't really exist.

It was inside her head.

However, if Eva had to place the image of a person to that sound- eerily similar to her own voice, but younger, crueller, more gleefully sadistic- she would say her schoolgirl self from twenty or so years ago would fit the role perfectly.

The voice had always been there, a little like an imaginary friend, reminding her to never give up- to be a respectable member of the Ushiromiya family, even if she was (as Kinzo and Krauss often said) 'only a woman'. That voice was, perhaps not another Eva altogether, but, rather, the concentrated form of her determination and resolve. That resolve had helped her in the past so many times, encouraging her to continue when all others would have given up.

But the voice was not a friend anymore.

It whispered, voice sweet, words honeyed, that she should give up.

End it.

End it all.

_You kept going all those times in the past because you wanted to prove yourself, ri__ght? Wellll- what to do you when you have nobody left to prove yourself TO? Is there any point in going on? Why don't you just give up and die! Kikikikyahahahaha!~~_

Eva clenched her fingers together so tightly the knuckles went white. She tried to ignore the voice, but… maybe it was true. What did she have left to live for? Her husband was dead. H-her son…

George…

Eva still couldn't think of him without her eyes clouding with tears.

She had loved her family even though she _hated_ them too- but the hate had been healthy, hadn't it?

She had spent her whole life striving forwards, never thinking of giving up; failure was a frame of mind, and she would not allow herself to doubt her abilities, but…

But now, she had nothing left…

Nothing… except Ange.

The child who would never love her because she was not her real mother.

When Ange looked at Eva, Eva only saw hatred; so much hatred- even though she was so young.

Ange blamed her for the death of her family.

The world blamed her.

And… maybe Eva blamed herself.

The voice inside her head, no matter how removed it was from her usual style of speech, was not an alien entity. It wasn't wasn't a separate personality, another person, a stranger- a parasitic growth- inside her skull.

It was still her.

It had always been her.

It merely said the things she was too afraid to ponder with her own voice.

_That's right, Evaaa~ You can't deny me; I am you, after all- and don't they say you should 'listen to your heart'? Ahh,__ you know what I've been saying is right- you've been thinking it too, but you're too much of a cowardddd to admit it…_

_But what do you have to lose?_

When Eva closed her eyes, she could almost imagine her younger self- hair let loose about her shoulders, clad in that ugly sailor suit uniform Krauss used to tease her about- stood there, smirking, leant forwards as though she were sharing some great secret.

_If you jumped__ from the top of this building it'd be five seconds- maybe ten- and then…_

_Then you get to see your family again, your __**real **__family- not that ungrateful girl with her narrow eyes and sallow face; she hates you, you can hate her too! Who cares?_

_In five seconds, you can end it all._

_After all… fufufu…_

_They build buildings so tall these days__._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **oh look a serious one XD  
>100% inspired by the Regina Spektor song 'buildings'. It's a really, really good song, srs.<br>& in response to one of Fan of Games' earlier questions (if I haven't answered already), of course you can save some of these stories in a word document or w/e ^_^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	102. Vampire

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #102: Vampire

"You know, I would hate to be a vampire."

"Mm… that's nice," said Ronove, only half paying attention to Beelzebub's babblings as he busied himself about the kitchen.

"Yeah! It would really suck!"

"And how did you come to this conclusion, may I ask?"

"Vampires don't eat human food, do they? They only have blood," Beelzebub explained, picking at her slice of cake. "I mean, blood is all fine and good for, like, a little light garnish or whatever-"

"Or whatever," Ronove repeated, smiling. "You have the most blasé attitude towards human blood since Elizabeth Báthory. Most people would be repulsed by the idea of ingesting blood."

"Well, don't knock it 'till you've tried it!" said Beelzebub defensively. "I'm just sayin', drinking blood all the time is fine as a one-off or whatever, but wouldn't you get really, really sick of it after a while? I could never live on a diet comprised of just one thing- I'd go insane! I need your cooking to liveee~ Without it my life is meaningless!~ Ahh- I can't even think about it!"

"Alright… Let's pretend, in a hypothetical situation that may never happen, you did become a vampire and normal food sickened you. What would you do?"

"I'd kill myself."

"Please don't take your life so lightly," Ronove said, now taking a seat beside Beelzebub at the table. "I would be quite upset if that happened."

"Hmm… Well, I wouldn't wanna make you sad or anything…" said Beelzebub, tapping her lower lip with one of her fingers. "Fufufu~ I knew you loved me really."

"Perhaps that's taking it a bit too far."

"Ooh, I know!" A light lit up in Beelzebub's eyes. She grinned. "If I did become a vampire and had a pretty restrictive diet, I'd make _you_ eat your own cooking first! Then I'd wait for all the goodness to get transferred into your bloodstream and I'd drain you~ Isn't that a good idea?"

"You would still try to feed off me? I daresay that's rather similar to our current situation as it is…"

"Yeah!~ You should feel flattered! See, I like you sooo much I'd eat you all up if I had to! I'd never do that with any of my sisters!"

Ronove laughed.

Beelzebub… really did have a unique of showing her affections.


	103. Obligation

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #103: Obligation

* * *

><p>"H-hey, um… Um… Let's get one thing clear! I-I'm not giving you this because I <em>like <em>you, okay?"

Kanon blinked in confusion at the flustered, red-faced form of Sanon. Her white, curly hair created a harsh contrast against her cheeks, which were almost crimson. Clenched in her hands was a heart-shaped box, topped off with a neat bow.

Sanon might not have looked (or acted) like it, but she was a very good maid and- as such- she was very good at fiddly little tasks, like tying ribbons or wrapping up chocolates, e-even if it was just obligation chocolate, a-and she didn't try _that_ hard to make it- really!

Her Valentine's chocolates, contrary to her violent character, looked beautiful.

Kanon had been tending to the roses outside. It had been raining earlier in the morning and small puddles of water were dotted about the ground; droplets of rain still drip-drip-dripping off the petals of the roses. The air smelt of wet soil. His fingers were slightly red from being outside in the cold so long, and there was a small streak of fertilizer across his cheek. Sanon, meanwhile, had been cleaning the parlor, so she smelt strongly of disinfectant.

Disinfectant and fertilizer mixed with roses and rain. Mm. What a delicious smell.

It wasn't the best time to confess her feelings, Sanon knew that, b-but it was still Valentine's Day! What if she didn't get another chance? Miss Natsuhi would only find her and give her more orders if she waited around too long, s-so she had to do it now!

She had to make Kanon accept her chocolate!

She hadn't worked hard on it, so she didn't really care- it was just _obligation chocolate_- but she didn't want all that hard work to go to waste! That was all!

W-why wasn't Kanon accepting it?

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Sanon snapped, trusting the neatly-wrapped box into Kanon's chest. "Take them, take them! I-I'll be really pissed off if you don't!"

"Ah… I… appreciate it…" said Kanon, after a long pause. He looked a touch embarrassed; staring down at the floor, unable to meet Sanon's angry/desperate glare. "But I am only furniture. It would be improper, I think-"

"I don't **care** if it's improper! I-it'll… I-it'll…" Sanon sniffed. There was a horrible burning sensation welling up at the back of her throat. Her eyes stung- b-but it wasn't like she was sad; it was because of the disinfectant! That was it!

"Miss Sanon…?"

At this quiet question and the soft- almost pitying- look in Kanon's eyes, Sanon's patience (which had always been in short supply) finally ran out.

"It's even more improper to make a girl upset, you milksop!" Satan snapped, her fingers crumpling into the hand-made box. "I made these chocolates for you- nobody else, _you_! It's not that I lo… lo… lo…" Sanon's face grew redder and redder. "It's not that I like you in THAT way, I-I just thought you're a nice person and… and you've helped me out a few times, a-and maybe we can be friends! B-but I guess not! I guess it was a waste of time after all! I hate you! I never want to see you again and… and… A-and I hope you eat the disgusting chocolate Jessica made for you, which you ACCEPTED regardless of whether it was IMPROPER or not, and I hope you _**choke**_ and **die**!"

And with that, Sanon threw her now-crumpled, slightly forlorn box of chocolates directly in Kanon's face.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Satan/Kanon _kawaii desu neee-_ness (this pairing is surprisingly popular, it seems XD), except if I used stake Satan I think that would screw around with the Umineko canon somewhat (I don't really count the Valentine's Day ep as canon cause the rest of the time none of the other charas can see the stakes unless they're on Rokkenjima on Beato's game board). So I used Satan's maido human form, so there's less universe imploding XD~  
>Umineko y u so complicated XD<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	104. A cut above the rest

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #104: A cut above the rest

* * *

><p>Beatrice's straight-across bangs were getting too long. She could hardly see what she was doing anymore, to the point where drinking tea was almost becoming a chore- and drinking tea should <em>never<em> be a chore!

When Beatrice's hand-eye coordination (or lack of it) had led her to knock over the cup of tea Ronove had prepared for her, Beatrice finally decided something **had to be done.** The thoughts running through her mind were in bold, no less, because the problem was just **that serious. **The consumption of tea took up a good portion of Beatrice's life. Without it, her existence would be left empty; a blank void.

That was why Beatrice did it.

Although… looking back on her actions, she might have been a little over hasty. Beatrice wasn't sure why she decided to cut her own hair herself, with a pair of kitchen scissors generally used for slicing raw meat. She could have used magic to alter her appearance… although using magic for such a simple task seemed ridiculous; a little like trying to kill a spider with a Winchester shotgun. Magic should only be used elegantly, for difficult tasks, like murder.

Not for styling her hair.

Why, then, didn't Beatrice ask Virgilia or Ronove for help? Virgilia and Ronove were both very reliable, and Beatrice knew it was far easier getting somebody else to cut your hair than doing it yourself.

But- for whatever reason- Beatrice decided this was a job she had to do herself. She was taking one more step on the road from immaturity to adulthood!

…Somehow, that statement sounded far more grandiose in her head than it did out loud, when she later tried to explain her reasoning to Virgilia. Virgilia had spent most of Beatrice's impassioned speech trying not to laugh.

Beatrice had taken the scissors in her hand and raised them aloft, in a dramatic manner that should have been accompanied by an ominous, Latin-chanting chorus. Then, she had held her bangs between the sharp blades-

"Milady, Satan's being mean to me! Kyahhhhh!"

-and jumped violently, her fingers trembling, as a wailing Asmodeus appeared before her. There was a loud 'ssst' sound- or maybe it just sounded louder to her- as the scissors clamped down on her beautiful golden locks…

And cut a huge, diagonal line through her bangs.

The following thoughts that ran through Beatrice's head weren't very elegant or ladylike, and they could easily be surmised in one word.

_Shit.  
><em>


	105. A softer side, part 1

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #105: A softer side

* * *

><p>"Mreow~"<p>

The sound was soft, hardly audible. However, Bernkastel was able to hear it easily.

Her presence was one that always drew the attention of lost cats and strays; perhaps because they sensed a certain kinship with the sly, devious, almost feline witch. Like a cat, Bernkastel could slip into the shadows easily; and, like a cat, she could bear her claws at anyone foolish enough to get too close.

Unlike the clumsy, inelegant, over-the-top Golden Witch, Beatrice, Bernkastel could do this all in deadly silence, expression frozen, with grace, poise and _style_.

That was what made her so threatening.

The cats didn't think so, though. That was why they followed her; rubbing against her legs, waiting for her to pet them.

Cats might have been dangerous… but they weren't, not really, if you earned their trust.

Bernkastel bent down, her tail brushing the floor, as she picked up the cat stood before her. It was really soft and fluffy...

"Hm… And who might you be?" Bernkastel muttered, as she inspected that cat's collar. "Diana…?"

Didn't Wizard Hunting Wright have a cat called Diana?

All of a sudden, Bernkastel's serene expression was replaced with a cruel smirk. Her grip on the cat tightened slightly; applying just enough pressure for it hurt.

Willard was a menace amongst witches like herself; felling them with no compassion or pity, just like one would cut down trees. Bernkastel had never encountered him before, but she was sure she would hate him. He was widely rumoured to be cold, arrogant, cruel…

Rather too much like herself.

The only weak spots Will might possibly have possessed were his friendship with Dlanor (and Bernkastel wasn't stupid enough to waltz into the department of Eiserne Jungfrau to pick a fight with their pint-sized leader) and his cat…

The cat Bernkastel held in her hands.

Oh, just think of all the cruel things she could do with this cat! She could cut off its paws and send them back to Willard, or tear out its tongue; rub its fur off with sandpaper or crush its eye in with cherry pits; smash its fragile skull against the floor and throw it into the worst kakera she could find where every single step would feel like knives against the skin…

Fufufufufu…

Bernkastel's grin grew wider and wider.

She would show Willard why they called her cruellest witch.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Berrnnn!~ I've missed youuuu! I can't wait to cover your body with honey and… and…?"<p>

But Lambdadelta's voice trailed off into nothingness.

There were no words.

It was impossible to describe the scene before her.

Bernkastel was lying, curled up, on her bed, long blue hair fanning out underneath her, whilst she cradled a small fuzzy ball of fluffy cat to her chest… and, as it licked her fingers and batted at the ribbon on her dress, she was…

Giggling?

But the moment was short-lived.

Bernkastel's sleepy, smiley expression melted away the moment she saw Lambdadelta, reverting to its usual blank state.

Sitting up- trying to disentangle the cat's claws from her hair- Bernkastel said, voice deadpan, "When did you arrive?"

"Umm… Just now?"

"How long were you watching?"

"Just a few minutes!" said Lambda, laughing sheepishly, as she seriously began to worry for her imminent safety. Even so… she couldn't resist teasing Bern, just a little. "I didn't know you had a cute side like that, Berrnnn! Aww, you're so adorable I could just pinch your cheeks and pull them right off! Eee, so cute- too cute!~~~"

"…I don't know what you're talking about. Stop talking nonsense, Lambdadelta."

"E-eh?" Lambdadelta frowned. "But you were giggling and everything! You can't just pretend that never happened!"

Bernkastel's eyes narrowed.

"Watch me."


	106. A softer side, part 2

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #106: A softer side prt 2

* * *

><p>"So Bern, who does the kitty belong to? Is it one of yours?"<p>

Bernkastel shook her head slowly. She was far too preoccupied petting the adorable bundle of fluff and fur on her lap to give Lambdadelta a verbal response. Then again, Bernkastel rarely dignified Lambdadelta's questions with answers. Lambda had grown to understand Bern was just a 'meanie-face' like that.

"Huh? Whose kitty is it, then?"

There was a small pause. Then, Bernkastel said slowly, "…I have a vague idea."

"Oooh, the plot thickens!~ Whose, whose? Tell meeee!~"

"Stop acting like a child and perhaps I'll consider it."

Lambdadelta smirked, waving one finger in Bernkastel's face reproachfully. "Tsk, tsk- I'm not a child, Bern! You of all people should know that; especially after what we did last night, fufufu~"

As always, Bernkastel's expression remained exactly the same; eyes empty, mouth in a straight line.

Lambdadelta pouted childishly.

"D-do I really mean so little to you that you that you won't even tell me the owner of that cat? You're so mean, Bern- so mean! It breaks my heart! Uwahhhhhh!"

"I told you to stop acting like a child."

"Hn? B-but that's part of my charm!"

"You don't have any charm."

"I bet if I had kitty ears and a tail it'd be a different story though, huhh? You were totally in lalaland when I saw you earlier with that adorable kitten! Gyahahaha- mmmph!"

But Lambdadelta was soon cut off- not, unfortunately, by Bernkastel's lips, but by a pillow to the face.

"Alright," said Bernkastel coldly, "I'll tell you who the cat belongs to if only to keep you quiet."

"Yay~"

"I believe… the cat belongs to Willard H. Wright."

"Oh…"

There was a small silence as Lambdadelta processed the knowledge; hugging the pillow Bern at thrown at her face to her chest as though in deep thought.

Then, all of a sudden, it hit her.

"Oh!"

Her whole face shone.

"I just had an _excellent _idea, Bern! If this really _is_ the 'oh-so-great' Wizard Hunting Wright's cat, then we could totally screw around with him! It'd be really fun! We could hold the cat to ransom for one hundred pounds of moon cakes, or we could dip the cat in chocolate and roast it on a spit, or we could cut off one of its paws and send it back to Will, or-"

"No."

"E-eh? Bern…?"

Bernkastel's usually emotionless face was flushed; eyes narrowed dangerously. Was she _scowling_?

"If you ever do something that cruel to a cat I'll never forgive you, Lambdadelta. _Never_."

Lambdadelta couldn't help but giggle a little at that, as she pulled Bern into a hug; nuzzling her head against the crook of her shoulder.

"What?" asked Bern, frowning. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing~ It's just… fufufu…" Lambda smiled. "Despite that 'I'm a big, bad, evil witch' thing you do sometimes, you can be kind of adorable at times, too. Well." Giggle, giggle. "Just a little..."

* * *

><p>Willard H. Wright was very surprised when, the following morning, he found his missing cat sat on the foot of his bed with a note attached to her collar. He was so relieved to see Diana that he ignored the note at first- trying to pull his bad-tempered cat into a hug.<p>

It was one of the stupider things Will had done in his life.

Diana's claw marks were a testament to that.

Whatever. Maybe he could tell everybody a witch had done it- then they'd all think he was cool.

When Diana pulled her claws out of his skin and loped off, the note that had been tucked in her collar fell into Will's lap.

It read;

'_Take better care of your pets or I, Bernkastel the Witch of Miracles, will personally make an incision in your torso and pull out all your internal organs. If you think this is a joke then you're a fool; I don't make jokes._

_P.S. Hi, this is Lambda!~ You better believe Bern- she really _doesn't_make jokes. She doesn't even smile either- unless it's one of her deranged KIKIKIKYAHAHAHAHA faces, which are kind of scaaaary!_

Um, anyways~ We rescued your cat AND gave it back to you when we totally could have skinned it and pickled it instead, meaning we are AMAZING, so I think you should reward us. I'm expecting to see one hundred pounds of moon cakes AND three hundred pounds of strawberry bonbons on my bed tomorrow, okay?~'

Will blinked at the note in mild surprise.

Then, he sighed.

There was a reason why he could never get along with witches no matter what good deeds they performed- and that was because they were so _arrogant _and _manipulative._

They were far too much like him.


	107. Bang!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #107: Bang

* * *

><p>"Fwahh! I'm <em>exhausted<em>."

_Twhump!_

With a soft, marshmallow-y noise, Gaap collapsed onto Beatrice's bed. Her blonde hair sproinged about her face like golden springs, falling in front of her eyes, but she was too tired to care.

Beatrice wrinkled up her nose. It was a good job she'd gathered her skirts up on her lap before Gaap fell over, or they would've been caught under her body.

"Yeah, you look tired, too~ Starting to show your age, huh, Gaaaap?~"

"Shut up, pipsqueak," said Gaap, glaring at Beatrice from under her hair. "You didn't even ask what I was doing to make me so tired~ Ask meee~ Assskkkk~ Aren't you interested?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, I'm glad you care!" said Gaap brightly, ignoring Beatrice's sarcastic comment. "I was visiting some old friends… Demons I haven't seen in a while~ You know, that kind of thing."

"A family reunion?"

"I guess. I got to be all 'yeah, I'm friends with the Golden Witch Beatrice', and Amy was all full of herself 'cause she'd done this thing with Featherine way back whenever but, pfftttt, what demon hasn't been contracted by Featherine at some point or another? Auaurora must be, what, five thousand years old? I don't even know. She doesn't either. And she's not very picky about her furniture, either."

"Oh, your woes do sadden me so."

"But wait! There's more!" cried Gaap, pulling herself into a sitting position with a newfound energy.

Beatrice looked distinctly unimpressed. "A twist in the tale?"

"Yeah, yeah!~ You see, I noticed, when I was talking with my ol' friends, they… looked really, really hideous!"

"I thought that was standard for demons?"

"No, seriously! Their clothes were _awful_! I know being furniture is a gruelling task and all, but, **geez**, at least color-coordinate your outfits!" Gaap shuddered theatrically. "Riiche, promise me something! If I ever start to look one tenth as stupid and ridiculous as those guys did you'll kill me, won't you?"

"…As you wish."

And then, with a small smirk, Beatrice formed a gun with her thumb and forefinger and pressed it against Gaap's temple.

"Bang."

Gaap paused.

Then, she frowned.

"H-hey! What's _that _supposed to mean?"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Um, in response to a comment made by Fan of Games a while ago, I like the idea of doing a story for Halloween, and I might use the idea you suggested ^_^;


	108. Made with love

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #108: Made with love

* * *

><p>"Hey, Ronove! Ronove! Get up, lazy bones! Get up get up get up!"<p>

And that was how Ronove, one of the highest ranking demons of hell who_ really _deserved more respect than that (it was lucky he didn't hold grudges), was woken at an ungodly hour of the morning.

'Time' was an alien concept in the meta world and it did not function as it did elsewhere- but, for arguments' sake, let's say it was around three in the morning. Virgilia, Beatrice and the seven sisters were asleep, whilst Gaap was off… nobody knew where (nobody wanted to know, either). Ronove had been asleep, too.

At least, until a vision of bouncing blonde curls and long, frilly white nightdress jumped on his middle and jabbed him repeatedly in the cheek.

It was a mark of just how well Ronove was trained as a butler that he did not shout in alarm at this bizarre turn of events- although that didn't mean he wasn't surprised.

"…Miss Beelzebub?"

"Yay. Well done~ Clap, clap, clap," said Beelzebub sarcastically.

Beelzebub was sat on Ronove's stomach, her legs either side of him, whilst she glared down at him from her vantage point. Her hair wasn't tied up as usual; instead, it was loose around her shoulders, messier than usual. She was pouting.

"Well, don't look so happy to see me!" Beelzebub continued, irritation seeping into her voice. "This is no greeting to give a lady!"

"And that is no greeting a lady should give," Ronove countered. He was still feeling a little sleep-deprived around the edges and his tone was somewhat sharper than usual, but it was (mostly) hidden behind a small, polite smile. "Would it trouble you to stop sitting on me?"

"You should be glad of the attention!" Beelzebub countered- although she did, albeit grudgingly, shuffle herself round so she was sat next to Ronove, as opposed to on top of him. "Honestly. I bet cute girls never talk to you so be flattered! I'm bestowing upon you the pleasure of my company; sound a little more appreciative!"

"I would be more appreciative if you hadn't chosen to have this conversation so early in the morning," said Ronove, brushing his hair out of his face and sitting himself up. "What could possibly be so urgent that we need to have this discussion now?"

Beelzebub's reply was instantaneous. "It _is _urgent. Very, very urgent. I want a hot chocolate."

"Mm… And here we might have conflicting definitions of the word 'urgent'."

"D-don't make fun of me!" Beelzebub snapped, her face flushing light pink. "I-I just couldn't get any sleep, and, well… I was just really thirsty, okay?"

"But you're fairly proficient in the kitchen yourself," Ronove said, words punctured with a small yawn he tried to stifle. "You hardly need my help to make something so simple, surely?"

The light pink flush on Beelzebub's face grew slightly darker.

"W-well, it's not just that! Food doesn't taste as good if you make it yourself, you know? If somebody else does it for you… t-then it just tastes better; like, it gives the food some… heart? I don't know! But I like what you cook more, and I said I couldn't get any sleep, and I… I…" Beelzebub was working herself into a strange state of hysteria; her eyes wide, face red, fingers trembling slightly.

"Miss Beelzebub?" Ronove asked with concern, now moving to press a cool hand against her forehead. "Are you ill?"

"N-no, I'm not ill!" Beelzebub snapped, pushing Ronove's hand away. "I'm just thirsty, I said, and I want you to come with me! G-geez, it's really simple- really!"

As Ronove looked at Beelzebub, he felt his previous irritation at being awoken so early (one of the few things in life that could successfully get under his skin) melt away. Beelzebub didn't look 'just thirsty'; that didn't explain how jittery she was.

Perhaps… the real problem was, she didn't want to be alone- and she was too embarrassed to admit it.

Maybe she'd had a nightmare?

Well…

Ronove could hardly be so cruel as to ignore her.

"Ah. I see how it is. Of course I'll make something for you to drink," said Ronove, smiling. "Although, I'm not doing it for free. Why don't you return the favour and make me some hot chocolate, too? I haven't tried any of your cooking in a while."

"Well, I… I guess… I guess that's okay, too… But I'm not sure that'd be a fair trade."

"Of course it would~ Remember, the heart of the person who makes the food is important, too. Although…" Ronove smiled, ruffling Beelzebub's hair. "It would have been easier if you told me the truth right from the start."

Beelzebub turned bright red.


	109. Mirror, mirror

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #109: Mirror, mirror

* * *

><p><em>I'm hideous.<em>

Leviathan sighed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Why was she so plain? All of her sisters were far prettier than her- even Belphegor, who wasted her looks completely by hiding herself away in small, secluded spaces and reading.

It just wasn't fair.

Lucifer had the nicest body, Satan had a really cute button nose, Belphegor was willowy and pale like a fairytale princess, Mammon's hair was really smooth and silky, Beelzebub was impossibly thin despite all the cakes she ate and Asmodeus' smiles were so bright and sunny they could have melted any heart.

What did Leviathan have?

In comparison to everybody else, she was so dull, so boring, so… so completely uninteresting it _hurt_.

She pinched her cheek.

Her reflection did the same thing.

_I'm ugly._

Leviathan sniffed, trying to resist the sudden urge to cry. She hated her sisters so much sometimes. They were better at fighting than her- and they were all much, much prettier, too! Why couldn't she have been blessed with any of their talents? Jealous; she was so jealous!

Being jealous was the only thing she was good at.

She was good at being jealous because she had a lot to be jealous about.

_I'm… useless…_

But, as Leviathan stared at her reflection a sudden loud, cheerful voice interrupted her;

"Hey, Levia!~ What'chu doing?"

It was Mammon.

Leviathan looked down at her lap, cheeks turning light pink. Mammon was the last person she wanted to see.

"Well, I, um…"

"Oh, you were staring longingly at your own reflection?" Mammon asked, voice tinged with sarcasm, as she rested her chin atop Leviathan's head. Grinning, Mammon cooed oh-so-sweetly, "Mirror, mirror, in Levia's hand, who's the prettiest in the land…?~ Oh… Oh my…"

"W-what is it?"

Mammon cackled. "It's **me**, of course!~ You don't even begin to register; you're, like, some disfigured little troll to my Snow White!"

"A-a troll?"

"Yep~ Stupid, ugly, uneducated- and I think you're even coming out in spots, too!~ Ahahaha; I don't know why you're looking at your reflection anyway, you'll only break the mirror! That's seven years back luck, isn't it? You're already hopeless enough without it! Ahahaha!"

Leviathan tried to bite back a whimper- but Mammon's words were sharp, just like shards of glass. They cut into her already low self esteem, tearing it to ribbons.

She sniffed.

Trembled.

And then she burst into tears.

Through her noisy sobbing Leviathan began to wail, somewhat indistinctly, "T-that's right…! There's nothing special about me at all… I-I hate it… I hate it!"

Leviathan collapsed forwards on her bed, buried her face against a pillow. Her sobs escalated, growing ever louder. She couldn't stop herself.

Meanwhile, Mammon stared at her sister with equal parts alarm and confusion.

"U-um, Levia…? It was just a joke…"


	110. Magical Miracle Heart Hunter Maria

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #110: Magical Miracle Heart Hunter Maria

* * *

><p>"Okay, mama's going out now. Be a good girl, Maria!"<p>

Maria was lying on her tummy on the carpet of the living room, attired from head to toe in a very cute, pink, frilly dress and the matching cute, pink, frilly headband. Her mama had sewn that dress for her for her birthday last year. It was one of Maria's most prized possessions because each and every stitch was infused with the magical powers of her mama's love. For her next birthday Maria thought she was going to get some kind of cute stuffed toy, and she'd already given her new friend a name inside her head. Sakura, in honor of that magical girl from that anime with even nicer, frillier dresses than hers'!

"Okaaaay!" Maria chorused, ever the dutiful and obedient daughter, as she gave her mother a fang-toothed smile. "Maria will be very, very good! Uu, uu!"

A warm smile spread across Rosa's raspberry-lipstick'd lips.

"Thank goodness. I know I can always count on you to be a mature, sensible girl, Maria."

"Uuu!~ Maria's mature and sensible! Mama loves Maria! Yay!" Maria said, giggling, as she turned her attention back on the anime she was watching.

Maria might have loved her mother, but cartoons were important, too- _especially _this one. It was one of Maria's favorite shows- maybe even more than the one with Sakura. The anime featured two young witches with pretty clothes and tasty-sounding names who stole boys' hearts for their magic spells.

Maybe Maria could become a witch if she stole hearts, too…?

Hmn.

How could you steal hearts, though? Did they have to be real human hearts? That sounded painful. Maria knew if you took a real human heart you killed them, and Maria didn't want to kill anybody- she was going to be a good, kind witch!

Maybe mama knew how to do it.

Mama knew everything.

"Mama…"

"What is it, Maria?" asked Rosa, as she put on her stylish stiletto shoes. "Do you want a present when I get home? I could buy you some yummy cheesecake for being such a good girl, if you want."

"That sounds good! Uu, but… that's not what I want to ask." Smiling sweetly, innocently, Maria said, "Mama… how do you steal boys' hearts?"

"Steal hearts…?"

"Yes! Do you need magic? If you steal hearts can you be a witch? Do you know how to do it? Uu, uu!"

Rosa looked a little perplexed for a few moments, a pensive look shifting across her face- before she began to giggle.

"Oh, Maria," said Rosa, patting her daughter on the head, "you're far too young to ask about boys now!" Pressing her index finger against her lips and winking, Rosa said coyly, "That's _top secret_~"

"But you know how, Mama?"

"Of course I do. That's exactly what I'm going to do now," said Rosa, running her hands through her long, silky hair. "I'm going to capture some hearts with my magical powers, hehehe~"

"T-then… I-is mama a witch?"

"Maybe… You'll find out the secret when you get older, though. You're so pretty, I'm sure you'd be able to steal hearts with ease. Then we can call you _Magical Miracle Heart Hunter Maria_, like something from one of those shows you like so much."

"R-really?"

"Of course~ Would I lie to you?

"Well…" Turning round on the threshold of the open door, wind blowing through her hair, Rosa waved to her daughter- "Goodbye, Maria!"

The door closed behind her with a slam.

Maria, meanwhile, watched her mother with wide, wide eyes.

Her mother was a witch…? T-that was so cool!

Maria clenched her hands into fists, smiling brightly.

"Alright! I'm going to work really hard to become her disciple! Then, I'll be able to steal hearts, too!"


	111. Friends in high places

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #111: Friends in high places

* * *

><p>"Thank you for the food."<p>

Bowing his head in a more demure way than usual, Ushiromiya Battler picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.

Being a growing boy- growing taller and taller and taller- Battler had a tendency to shovel food down his as though every meal was his last, manners be damned. Today, however, there was a strangely pensive look in his dark eyes and he ate his food slowly; considering every piece of food as he put it in his mouth.

Where had Battler's energy gone? His head was bowed, shoulders slumped, skin pale. He didn't look anything like the cheery, zealous teenager who'd bid his grandparents farewell that morning as he ran off to school, toast in his mouth and bag slung round his shoulder.

Had something bad happened…? Maybe troubles with school, or with girls…?

"Hey, Battler," said Hiroshi, Battler's grandfather. "Aren't you hungry?"

Battler looked down at his food dispassionately.

"Um… Not really…"

Even his voice was more drawn and despairing than usual.

Natsumi, Battler's grandmother, watched him levelly through her watery eyes. She loved and cared for Battler as if he was her own son, for he was so similar to Asumu the old woman couldn't help but dote on him. However, she knew it was best not to push her grandchild. Battler wasn't very good at keeping secrets; he'd tell her what the problem was within time.

And sure, enough;

"Hey," said Battler softly, after a few more minutes of 'eating' had elapsed, "can I… ask you something…?"

"Of course, dear. You can ask us anything," said Natsumi.

Hiroshi chuckled. "I thought you were looking a little upset. Is it lady troubles, hm?"

Instead of responding to the joke with a usual 'ihihihi' and a wide grin, Battler only sighed.

"No, it's not… It's more like… How can I put this into words?" Battler frowned, drawing his arms round his knees in an almost protective pose. He lowered his head, deep in thought. Then, he finally spoke; "Sometimes I feel like… I'm a burden to you. I mean, I live in your house, wear the clothes you buy me, eat the food you cook me, but… But I'm not really your son… I came here because I was having an argument with my dad and had nowhere else to go, and I've been here almost three years now. Doesn't that bother you? Maybe I'm, like, intruding on you… or something…"

There was a small silence. Natsumi and Hiroshi looked at each other from across the table, unsure of what to say.

How long had Battler been feeling like this…?

Well, one thing was clear. It wouldn't be resolved if everybody was miserable.

Natsumi was quite old now- sixty-seven- but it was obvious from the radiance of her smiling face she had been very, very pretty when she was younger. Battler knew that for a fact. He'd seen the photographs of her and Hiroshi stood together with his mother when she was only a baby.

It was almost impossible to feel upset when confronted with a smile that dazzling.

"Don't be silly, Battler. We love having you here," said Natsumi. "We'd never, ever abandon you; you're just as much our child as Asumu was."

"It's good to have a young lad round the house at our age, too," said Hiroshi. "It keeps us young! Ihihi!"

"You mean it…?" said Battler, hardly daring to hope. "You… really mean it…?"

"Of course we do, silly," said Natsumi, in a motherly way that was so reminiscent of Asumu it was a little painful. "Why would we lie to you?"

"Plus, there is one other advantage of having such a strong, tall lad at our beck and call!"

"Oh? And what's that?"

Hiroshi grinned. "We finally have somebody who can reach the food on the highest shelves of the supermarket in our family of short people! I'd never even _had_ octopus before until you decided to live here, ahaha!"

Five seconds was all the time it took for the usual wide, happy smile to tug on Battler's lips.

"Alright!~ I'll do my best and keep eating so I can reach food on even higher shelves for you! Ihihihi!~"

And with that, Battler picked up his chopsticks-

"Thanks for the food!~"

-and enthusiastically began to eat.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **because Battler lived with his grandparents for like 6 years and nobody ever mentions this XD plus, domestic type stuff like this is super fun and cute to write ^_^;; I should do something with Asumu and her newly established parents now, they seem like they'd be a pretty happy family XD It would contrast nicely against how messed up the Ushiromiyas are XDD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	112. You spin me right round baby

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #112: You spin me right round baby

* * *

><p>Although Dlanor A. Knox was one of the most highly ranking members of Eiserne Jungfrau, with a fearsome reputation and an emotionless personality to match, she couldn't deny that this was… kind of fun.<p>

_Whoosh_

Alright, that was a lie. It was really, really fun.

Dlanor thought it was strange that such a childish activity could be so enjoyable- but, when compared to the continued drudgery of shifting through mountains of paperwork, this was paradise.

…That might have been taking it a bit far, but still. At least it kept her occupied.

_Whooosh_

Even if it was beginning to turn her stomach.

_Whoooosh_

Swivel chairs really were the best invention of mankind. The person who had created this marvellous innovation in modern… sitting-down-ness was a genius. It made boring office work 500% more enjoyable- mainly because Dlanor could spin herself around so many times she forget all about said office work and, instead, felt like being sick.

_Whoooosh_

But Dlanor's 'whooshing' on her spinny swivel chair was interrupted by a knock on her door.

Humph. Killjoy.

Then again, this intrusion was probably for the best. Dlanor would probably have been sick if she'd kept on spinning any longer.

Dlanor managed to stop herself by slamming her hands on her desk. She waited for a while until her office stopped spinning before she was able to say, in her most emotionless voice, "Come IN."

The visitor was none other than Gertrude.

"I'm here to pick up the reports regarding the trial of Miss Barasuishou," said Gertrude, her voice carefully emotionless as always. "May I have them?"

"Of COURSE," said Dlanor. "Let me fetch them for YOU."

Dlanor's method of filing was rather unique. The order of the reports in her filing cabinet moved around every day; sometimes in alphabetical order, at other times chronological, or in the ascending severity of the crimes committed, or even in the type of ice-cream flavor Dlanor associated each case with. It was a pretty effective way of staving off boredom. Being a genius, Dlanor had never lost a single case file yet, but everybody else found it impossible to locate anything in her office. Therefore, it would have taken Gertrude hours searching for what she wanted. It was only logical Dlanor go fetch them-

Except she'd quite forgotten the after affects of spinning around on a swivel chair for half an hour.

As soon as Dlanor stood up the whole office twisted around her around her once more. Dlanor's legs gave way from underneath her, and- with a _thunk_- the young girl's face was suddenly introduced to the rather ugly carpet in her office.

Gertrude's eyes widened with worry.

"Dlanor, are you alright?"

"…I'm FINE," said Dlanor, sitting up- with a little help from Gertrude. Her lavender curls were completely disorganized, and her nose was bleeding. "It seems this is the price that has to be paid for having FUN."

Gertrude only sighed, affecting the air of a put-upon mother. "I know it may sound rude to ask… but have you been doing something silly again?"

Dlanor's evasive glance at the floor was all the answer Gertrude needed.


	113. Critical hit

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #113: Critical hit

* * *

><p>"Hm… This doesn't look good."<p>

Belphegor bit her lower lip as she watched the health bar of her lapras rapidly decline. It looked like it was going to faint, and it was the last Pokémon she had left. What to do, what to do…

Ange had lent the game to Mammon once she'd defeated it, and- following this- the game had been passed around each of the seven sisters as they completed it. Everybody (even Asmodeus) had managed to beat the game with their own preferred teams. Leviathan had a strange affinity for normal types (at least, until she caught a bizarre block of glitches whilst surfing and it crashed her game); Lucifer's team had been balanced and functional; Satan liked creatures with long claws and fangs that could tear an enemy team to ribbons; Beelzebub had taken such a liking to her snorlax she'd called it 'BeelzeJr' and actually had to hold back tears when her progress was wiped, and Asmodeus had refused to catch anything that wasn't _'really adorable!'_

Eventually, the only one who hadn't played the game was Belphegor.

Belphegor didn't like video games very much. They were virtual worlds designed to enthral the weak-willed and lazy- in effect, allowing them to escape from real world and problems they were too lazy to fix. Video games encouraged sloth, and the idea of sitting down all day doing nothing else but mashing buttons was Belphegor's idea of hell.

The only game Belphegor actually liked was Tetris, and that was because she had to use her brain.

Plus, the music was catchy.

However, after much cajoling from her other sisters- 'we never have anything to talk to you about. Play the game; then you'll be like usss!'- Belphegor finally gave in. Arguing over a video game was completely pointless; she decided she might as well finish it so everybody would stop pestering her.

Besides… I-it would be nice to have something to discuss with her sisters for a change.

To Belphegor's surprise, the game wasn't _that_ mindless or boring. It required a little skill; just like a larger, elemental version of rock, paper, scissors. Once she'd learnt the different types it was easy, and the game play got a little repetitive, but at least it was fairly easy to complete.

It was as Belphegor pondered her next move that she saw a shadow fall over her shoulder, and a familiar voice in her voice.

"Hey, Belphie!" said Mammon brightly. "You finally stopped being a rebel and conformed with the crowd, huh?"

"I wasn't trying to be rebellious. I merely find pastimes like this-"

"Pointless, I know," Mammon finished. "But you have to take a break and enjoy yourself _sometimes_."

"Different people find different things enjoyable."

"Well, I guess that's true, too… But, geez. I really don't get what's going on inside your head. You don't seem to enjoy _anything_. At least, not things a normal person would like."

The phrase 'normal person' needled Belphegor. She felt herself flinch. W-was she really that weird? She'd never seemed to fit in with her sisters, or the other demons under Beatrice's employment… The only person Belphegor felt truly close to was Virgilia, and she enjoyed Chiester 45's company too… She might have liked Ronove, too, if he hadn't spent so much time with Beelzebub. Beatrice was fine, too, but Beelzebub felt nervous in her company, worried she would do something wrong.

Her sisters always seemed to have so much fun together- and she was the odd one out.

Mammon, despite her tactless nature, seemed to notice her throwaway comment had upset her sister. Her eyes softened, and she smiled.

Since when did Mammon get so mature, anyway…?

"Well, I won't question your tastes. D'you know, I went into the kitchen- this was back with Beato, mind- to get something to eat, and I found Beelze and Ronove together, and they looked pretty friendly, if you know what I mean, fufufufu~"

"E-eh? I-is that so…?"

Mammon smirked. "Would I tell a lie like that?"

"Well, maybe… Why didn't you mention it before?"

"It wasn't any of my business. I was just tryin' to cheer you up. Oh…" Mammon looked down at the screen of the Gameboy- which was now quite beaten up, marred with fingerprints, given the other sisters' treatment of it (they seemed to find human technology hilarious). "Your lapras is low on health. You might want to heal it."

"It doesn't know recover."

"Then use a potion."

"W-well…" Belphegor frowned. "I don't like substituting tactics for inventory. And what if I need that potion for later? I might need to save it for a better moment."

At this, Mammon rolled her eyes.

"Aww, come _on_, Belphie. It's just a game. Do you have to take everything so seriously?"

"If you don't take something seriously there's no point in doing it."

"I know, but… _honestly_. Do you _try _to make everything difficult for yourself on purpose?"

Belphegor didn't reply. Instead, she only flushed, her cheeks turning light pink.

M-maybe there was some truth in that statement after all…

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This will prolly be the last pokemon one... XD i like assigning characters pokemon based on their personalities, though. i think beelze would totes have a snorlax and a wailord on her team XD~ Asmodeus would have a smoochum and a luvdisc, Beatrice would have something regal, like a flareon, and Virgilia would have an altaria or milotic... XD -has given this too much thought-

Um, in regards to Fan of Games' review, I haven't started that oneshot collection yet, but I will write it, hopefully in time for halloween :3

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	114. And now, the punch line

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #114: And now, the punch line

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mammon! Mammon, I have a funny joke to tell you!"<p>

"Oh? What is it, Asmo?" asked Mammon expectantly.

…Well, to be bluntly honest, that was a lie. Mammon wasn't really 'expectant' at all. Asmodeus wasn't known to be the most intelligent person in the world. However, Mammon- ever the 'caring sister'- was still somewhat interested to hear what the twin-tailed girl had to say.

"Dumb blonde jokes!" Asmodeus declared proudly, a cat-like grin spreading across her face.

Mammon frowned as she put her nail polish aside. She didn't want the contents of the bottle to get spilled over her bed; not after what happened last time. Belphegor had gone just a_little_ bit insane whilst trying to scrub the black nail polish marks out of Mammon's duvet.

Roughly 0.34 seconds later, Mammon's hindsight to move her nail polish proved to be a genius move. This was because 0.34 seconds later Asmodeus launched herself into the air and landed on Mammon's bed with a _twhump._The twin-tailed stake giggled happily to herself as she kicked her legs in the air, not seeming to care that one of her errant pigtails had slapped her big sister across the face.

"You do realize dumb blonde jokes perpetuate untrue stereotypes and may be potentially offensive to blonde people who do not fit the aforementioned stereotype, right?" said Mammon, displaying an unusual amount of intelligence that she generally hid behind cruel laughter and manic grins.

Asmodeus only nodded her head and giggled.

"…Okay then." Mammon smirked. Then, she reached forwards and tugged gently at one of Asmodeus' pigtails. "You do realize _you__'__re_blonde, Asmo?"

"E-eh? I am?" Asmodeus frowned, her gaze turning towards her hair. "I-I thought it was like… browny-blonde."

"Which is still technically blonde."

"But not _really_blonde!"

"Blonde is still blonde. Have we started with the jokes already, Asmo?"

"N-no!" said Asmodeus, puffing out her cheeks. "I have a really funny blonde joke, I swear- but _I__'__m_not it!"

"You do have quite a funny face, yes."

"Nooo! The joke isn't _me_!"

"Well, it'll be hard finding something funnier than this silly face~" said Mammon, voice sing song, as she pressed a finger against Asmodeus' cheek. "But let's hear it anyway. Go on, Asmo~ Whaddaya wanna say?"

"Well~ Okay~ Hehe~" Asmodeus pushed Mammon's intrusive fingers away. Then, she ran her hands through her hair (was she checking it was still there?) and cleared her throat.

"Alright!" Asmodeus declared. "There was this blonde girl, right…"

"Well, this _is_a dumb blonde joke. The 'there was a blonde girl' part goes without saying."

"Yeah, I guess… Eheh. Anyway, this blonde girl…" Asmodeus paused for maximum effect.

Mammon smirked, pressing her fingers against her lips to stifle a laugh. "Huh. Where do _you_ learn about suspense?"

"S-shut up! I'm smarter than you think!"

"Smarter than the poor blonde in your joke?"

"Y-yes! This was blonde was so stupid she sat on the couch and watched the TV!"

There was a small pause. Then, Mammon began to snigger.

"Yes?~ Is that really so weird? Don't most people sit on the couch?" What do _you_do, then, Asmo? I'm intrigued."

Asmodeus' face flushed bright red, and her eyes widened. "O-oh no! I think I told that the wrong way round…"

"Mm. Just a liiiittle. Have you got any more jokes in your _vast_ repertoire?"

"U-um… There was a brunette and a red-head and a blonde, and they all jumped off a building-"

"That doesn't sound very intelligent. I think the red-head and the brunette are kind of stupid, too."

"W-well, okay, they didn't jump, they fell-"

"Which doesn't do much for the red-head and the brunette's supposed intelligence, either. This also begs the question, why were they on the roof of the building to begin with? Details, details, I need the details!"

"I-I don't know, I didn't make up the joke!"

"Ooh~" Mammon whistled. "You didn't? Now I'm disappointed. And I thought for sure it would be a masterpiece like your earlier one."

"Whatever. So this blonde and brunette and black-haired girl-"

"I thought you said red-head."

"It doesn't matter!"

"It matters to me! Stop changing the story or I'll get confused!"

"What~ev~_er_!" Asmodeus exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "These three girls- one of them was blonde, who cares about the other two- were stood on the roof, and I don't know why, but they were, and they fell off, but I don't know how, but they DID, okay?"

"…This seems like a pretty flawed premise, but go on. I'm listening."

"U-um, well… The red-head and brunette all hit the floor- SQUISH!" Asmodeus clapped her heads together for emphasis. "They're _**dead**_! Like pancakes!"

"Geez~ This joke has taken a pretty sadistic turn. Is it okay to laugh at things like that?"

"Yeah, their deaths aren't the point of the joke."

"So they died needlessly? That's even worse!"

"It doesn't matter!" said Asmodeus, gritting her teeth together. She was trying very hard to resist punching Mammon. Telling a joke shouldn't have been this difficult. "The other two girls fell, right? But it took the blonde longer to fall, and that's because-"

"She had bigger breasts because of plastic surgery, meaning there was more air resistance?"

"N-no, that's not it! Eww… you sound like a perverted old man!"

Mammon rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I'm hardly a pervert."

"Yes you are!"

"Not in the least! I'm a lady with a due sense of propriety and manners! I'm, like, Virgilia. But without the stupid hat," said Mammon, running a hand through her hair. "If you want to see a real pervert, try talking with Lambdadelta for more than two seconds."

"I _like_ Lambda. She's funny."

"And I don't think much of your taste. But, anyway…" Mammon tapped Asmodeus on the nose. "How does this joke end? Tell me~"

"Oh, well, um…" Asmodeus frowned. She looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. However, none came.

"What are you waiting for, Asmo?" Mammon snickered. "Divine intervention? The sky to fall down? Are you trying to build more suspense?"

"N-no, it's just… It's just…"

Asmodeus pouted. There was a pause large enough you could have fit an elephant through it. Then, slowly, very slowly… Asmodeus blinked. And she said;

"…I can't remember the punch line of the joke anymore."

Mammon giggled. "Kukuku!~ Oh no, I think you've got a decent punch line alright!"

At this, Asmodeus' eyes lit up. "R-really? What is it?"

Mammon smirked. Then, without missing a beat, she stabbed a finger at her little sister. "It's _**you**_. If anybody's a living representation of a real dumb blonde, it's _totally__you._Way to prove your own point. People might say you're stupid, Asmo, but _that_ was a real work of genius."

* * *

><p><strong>an:**Conversations like this happen a lot in my real life… XDD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	115. Fun for the whole family

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #115: Fun for all the family

* * *

><p>"Oh, I know, know! It's 'road', isn't it?" said Ange excitedly, jabbing a chubby little finger at the window of the car. "It's road, right? Right?"<p>

"That's right," said Kyrie. "My little daughter is so clever, fufu~"

"She takes after you," said Rudolf, grinning. "Too bad Battler didn't get any of your genes."

"H-hey! That's not a nice thing to say…"

"Yes. I'm afraid poor Battler was stuck with Asumu's chronic clumsiness and fear of moving vehicles, wasn't he?" said Kyrie. Although her voice was pleasant, there was something strangely frosty in it; cold enough to make Rudolf shiver.

Rudolf and Kyrie had been married for four years, and they no longer found Asumu a sore subject. Even so, Kyrie could never quite fail to hide her real feelings over Battler's mother when she brought her up- and Rudolf, despite his bravado, always winced slightly at her memory. They didn't talk about Asumu a lot.

"D-don't say things like that! I'm not stupid! A-and I'm not afraid of cars!" Battler said- half trying to protect his masculine pride (he didn't want Ange to get a bad impression of her beloved brother!), and half trying to diffuse the volatile situation.

"If you're not afraid of cars when why are you curled up on yourself with your eyes closed, huhhh?~"

"Don't be cruel, dear. I'm sure Battler is merely resting his eyes, right?"

"Scaredy, scaredy!" said Ange, giggling. "Big brother's _scarrrredddd_!"

"Oh, you'll **pay** for that, Ange-"

_Thunk._

There was a loud rattling sound as the car hit a bump in the road. Battler fell forwards, his face turning ashen and pale.

Cars really were _horrible_.

"Hey, Ange~ What do we call your stupid, useless big brother?"

"Scaredy! Scaredy!" Ange said- and then she began to laugh again. She was always so sweet and mature on her own; Rudolf was a bad influence. "And he hasn't managed to win a single game of 'I spy' yet! Useless, useless!~"

"Y-you little…" _Thunk_. "U-urgh… Hey, you old bastard, are you trying to drive over the worst bits of road on _purpose_?"

"Maayyybeeee."

"Y-you really are a-"

"Now, now, Battler. Language," said Kyrie lightly. "And dear, you shouldn't tease Battler. He's terrified enough as it is, fufufu."

"Not you _too,_ Kyrie!" Battler exclaimed. "And I thought we were _friends_!"

"I don't know what you mean by that, hehe~"

"Alright, stupid big brother!" said Ange cheerfully, prodding Battler in the side (he squeaked). "I'll ask a really, really easy 'I spy' question for you because I'm nice and you're so silly!"

"Alright, Ange!" said Battler, his voice challenging- but he didn't have enough strength to do his customary over dramatic finger-pointing that always made Kyrie giggle. "I'm ready! Hit me with everything you've got and I'll solve it with my eyes closed!"

"Okay. Hehe… I spy with my little eye… Something beginning with 'stupid big brother'!"

"N-ngh…" Battler grit his teeth together. "That's cruel, Ange! That's _way_ too cruel- I'm actually _dying_ here! And I'm _not_stupid!"

The resultant laughter from Ange, Kyrie and Rudolf stated otherwise.

…Why oh why was Battler's family full of sadists?


	116. To a breathless oblivion

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #116: To a breathless oblivion

* * *

><p>Amakusa Juuza wasn't a stupid James Bond villain. He may have appeared suave, good-looking and far too pretty to be an actual threat- as <em>she<em> had spat at him so many times- but he was good at his job.

He was very, very good at job.

It had been easy.

It was almost frightening how easy it had been.

If life was a movie there would've been a final confrontation, an epic showdown with awesome music, and Ange would've won because she was strong and brave and beautiful and kind of sort of _incredibly,__ undeniably __wonderful_.

The lying double agent never survived until the end of the movie. Amakusa didn't deserve to live.

It was sad, then, that real life never worked out how it should.

It just wasn't fair.

Amakusa had shot her from point blank range when her back was turned.

She wasn't able to run away.

She didn't even see it coming.

Bang, whoosh, _splatter_- bone and brain everywhere.

To a breathless oblivion.

_See you in hell._

Amakusa's methods were cowardly, maybe, but definitely efficient. It got the job done and dusted; now onto the next victim.

There was no great fanfare when the bullet burst through the back of Ange's skull; nobody to cry or mourn Ange's pathetic, crumpled body hit the mud and dirt; no evil laughter, no battle sequence, no dramatic music, no… nothing. It was kind of anti-climatic.

Then again, life was.

Okonogi had a cover story all thought up, of course. Ange got into a little scuffle with Kasumi and her bodyguards. The 'scuffle' got out of hand, and though Ange put up a great fight she was eventually killed. At least she got to pay her last respects to her family on Rokkenjima, though; that was always a nice touch. The sensationalist nature of the story would get the media's attention, of course, but that'd die out in time, leaving Okonogi to inherit the Ushiromiya fortune, and (fingers crossed) giving the ever faithful, ever charming Amakusa Juuza quite the handsome pay check.

Simple.

And yet, Amakusa couldn't help but feel it really _shouldn__'__t_ have been. Maybe he was being silly, emotional (damn emotions didn't get you anywhere), but Ange was…

She wasn't just a meal ticket to the high life.

She wasn't a means to an end.

She was more than just _money_.

Ange was the funny little lady with the permanently grumpy expression- the silent, sulky seven year old Amakusa had first met whilst under Eva's employ; the girl who'd lost her mom, her dad, her big brother, her _whole__ family_, in one go, and felt sad and alone and _scared_ and she'd cried a lot- Amakusa knew she had.

He'd always smiled at her whenever he saw her.

Somehow, those smiles evolved into something more.

Amakusa could still remember the conversations he'd held with Ange had back then. He would tell her stories of his own past exploits- mostly embellished, bits made up, and he'd tell Ange he was a real hero; that he could shoot a target from miles away and survive underwater by breathing through a car tyre (_thank_you, James Bond, who proved that possible), and Ange had smiled (just a little, though) when he spoke to her.

Amakusa had promised her they'd make an incredible, unstoppable team one day.

It hadn't _quite _turned out that way, though.

Amakusa hadn't always known he'd been protecting Ange like a butcher reared a lamb for the slaughter- but when he got that phone call from Okonogi a few weeks back, it had…

Surprisingly, it had _hurt_.

It had hurt pretty bad.

That little lady with the too-serious face and the too-childish hair ties had been through so much, _too_much, and somewhere along the lines he'd kind of begun to _enjoy_her company, really enjoy it; teasing her light-heartedly, tugging at her hair, making perverted comments… Hell, at one point they'd even sat together in a hotel room and somehow they'd managed to have a conversation about _Disney_, of all things, and it had been… … nice.

Just… quiet and relaxed, and really _nice_, as though they were real friends and they'd been together since forever.

Ange had even smiled just a little during that conversation; that small, crooked quirk of her lips that showed she didn't _really_want to smile, but she couldn't quite help herself.

She would never smile like that again.

Not with the back of her head blown in like that.

When Amakusa heard the news- _you__'__re __the __only __one__ who __can __do __it, __Juuza. __I__'__m __counting __on __you_- he hadn't even thought about disobeying Okonogi because, really, he liked the little lady and all but he needed to eat to stay alive too, so, tough luck. Everybody has to die someday. He really liked her- really, he_ did_, but…

A job was a job.

That hadn't stopped him from dreaming up his last words to Ange, though.

Sure, he was going to kill her- no problem, it got easier with trial and error, practice makes perfect- but… he didn't want her to die like a limp ragdoll, face in the dirt, covered in blood; he didn't want to just _disappear_ so easily.

She deserved a little more than that.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry.

He was really, really sorry.

He had wanted to tell her he had enjoyed every moment they spent together, even when she had hurled abuse at him or kicked him in the shins for making perverted comments. He wanted to tell her how much he loved listening to her silly lectures, especially when her voice raised in pitch and she planted her hands on her hips. He wanted to tell her how cute she looked in her school uniform- honestly, it was kind of hideous, but she pulled it off just fine. He wanted to tell her he sympathized with her past and understood how difficult everything must have been for her. He wanted to tell her he'd heard her crying for her big brother that night in the hotel weeks ago; a sad sob like a dying gasp as she twisted and turned in her sleep. He wanted to tell her it'd be alright, he was here for her- he wouldn't let her down.

But that was a lie.

In the end, he didn't say anything.

He didn't even say goodbye.

After all, Amakusa Juuza wasn't a stupid James Bond villain. He may have appeared suave, good-looking and far too pretty to be an actual threat- as Ange had spat at him so many times- but he was good at his job.

He was very, very good at job.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I can picture Amakusa liking James Bond XD  
>Anyway, um, kind of a departure from humor here XD But I rilly wanted some Amakusa stuff :3 I'll do more Amakusa &amp; Ange stuff later~<br>I see Amakusa as having a more brotherly relationship with Ange than a romantic one 'cause it's said he knew he since she was about 6 or 7 given he was Eva's bodyguard for a while. That's just my interpretation though :3  
>I wonder how old that would make Amakusa anyway o: I'd say about 2829, maybe... I'm not sure if it works given his relationship w/ Ange from an early age, but 30 seems too old XD

Also, on an unrelated side note…  
>I am really craving some RonoveBattler fic right now, and nobody writes it ._.ll I'll totally do a oneshot exchange or w/e with somebody if they're willing to write me some of my OTP ;A; Anybody interested? I'd be really super grateful if somebody took me up on this ;A;

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	117. This too shall pass

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #117: This too shall pass

* * *

><p>"Are you going off to school now, Erika, dear?"<p>

The six year old Furudo Erika nodded, smiling a gap-toothed smile. Wearing her cute school uniform, hair tied up in two uneven pigtails (one tie was strawberry-shaped, the other plain blue), she was the very picture of childish enthusiasm and happiness.

"That's nice," said Erika's neighbour cheerfully. She was crouched in her front garden, gloves smeared with soil, and was in the middle of planting some roses. Talking to Erika in the mornings was always just as entertaining as pruning flower borders and picking slugs out the lettuce patch, though. "What are you doing in school?"

"Multiplication," said Erika. She smirked, eyes narrowing, and folded her arms. "The other _children_aren't very good at it, but I'm amazing!"

The way Erika talked about her classmates was always amusing. Sometimes, it was almost as if the slightly shorter-than-average girl believed she was truly an adult. Arrogance like that was sickening in grown men and women, but young children could be excused for their airs and graces.

It was cute, just like playing pretend. That was all.

"Is that so?"

"Yes! The teacher said I'm the best, better than everyone! The work's so easy, though, I understand how anybody could have a problem with it! Kihihihi!~"

Erika's neighbour smiled indulgently. "You must be a very clever girl, Erika."

"Yes, I am!~"

"Just don't get over-confident, okay? Pride comes before a fall, you know."

"Okaaaaay," Erika echoed. "School is really, really boring, though. I… I-I want somethin' _interesting_ to happen!"

"Oh? Like what?"

Erika's eyes lit up. Throwing her arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement, she exclaimed, "Maybe they could find a _dead__body_buried under the swing set!"

"Pardon me?"

"Yes! Or maybe, ummm… a kidnapping could happen, and the kidnapper people could cut off bits of the victim's body, like their fingers, and send the police scary messages, and it'd be up to me to solve the crime and catch the culprit! I'm really smart, so I bet I could! I could solve it easily; anything is possible for Furudo Erika!~ Hahahaha~! That'd be _**so**_much more fun than math!"

Erika's neighbour laughed, wiping strands of greying hair out of her face. A smear of soil was left on her forehead, but she didn't notice.

"That's not a nice thing to say, Erika. Solving a mystery might be fun, but what if _you_were the victim?"

There as a small pause. Then, Erika giggled.

"Mmmnope. Not gonna happen!"

"And why not?"

"Because the detective _never_gets killed off at the start of the novel, that's why!"

"You can't always apply novels to real life."

"But real life is so _boring_!"

"You're only six years old. Life might get more interesting later. You'll move onto division in math soon, I bet. Won't that be fun?"

Erika sighed, directing her gaze at the floor once more. "But _everybody_ learns math and division. I'm good at those things, but I want to be the best at something nobody else can do! I want something really interesting to happen! I wanna be involved in a murder mystery _right__now_!"

"Ahaha, well, your mother might murder _you_if you don't hurry up and get to school, young miss."

"Nahh. My mom doesn't have the mens rea to commit a crime like that. I know; I tried to profile her a while ago. She's too nice."

The kindly neighbour's eyebrows raised slightly. "M-mens rea…?"

Erika nodded. "Yeah, the mental element of a crime, at least, in Europe anyways. We don't use Latin phrases in our law, but it's pretty much the same thing. Anyway, I'm gonna go. Have fun gardening."

"I will. Have fun multiplying."

Erika stuck out her tongue, then turned and ran off. Her pigtails fluttered slightly in the breeze, schoolbag swinging over her shoulder.

That Erika was such a funny girl, mused her elderly neighbour. She was far too intelligent for the average six year old. Every other day Erika could be found in her front garden, lying on her stomach, book in hand. It looked like murder mysteries had become a new favorite all of a sudden.

Well…

It was probably just a phase.

She'd grow out of it.

Smiling to herself, Erika's neighbour shook her head, and turned back to her gardening.

She paid little Furudo Erika no further thought.


	118. Typecast

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #118: Typecast

* * *

><p>"Now hold still little girl and accept your injection~ This won't hurt a bit… Fufufu… Or maybe, if I'm feeling particularly sadistic, it <em>will<em>."

"…Bored."

"H-huh?" said Lambdadelta, breaking character for a few moments to look down at Bernkastel.

Her Bern looked so pretty, her lovely blue hair spread out on the pillow like that, dressed in that cute schoolgirl uniform that strained slightly across her chest- but the dull look of apathy on her face was a little disconcerting. She looked almost _dead_.

And that wasn't remotely appealing.

Lambdadelta, despite her strange kinks, didn't really relish the idea of cuddling up in bed next to a dead person.

"I meant what I said," said Bernkastel. "I'm bored."

"How can you be boreddd?" Lambdadelta whined, pouting childishly. "This is fun, right?~ I mean, I'm dressed as a nurse and everything!"

"You always dress like that."

"Huh? Noooo, not _always_."

"But when we roleplay you _always_ get to be Takano," said Bernkastel, idly toying with a strand of her blue hair. "Forgive me for saying, but after the third time it gets a tad dull." A pause. "And my uniform is too small. It would fit you better."

"But you **can****'****t**be Takano!" Lambadelta whined, prodding Bernkastel in the cheek. "_I__'__m_ the sexy, sexy nurse! You're my helpless schoolgirl!"

Bernkastel's dead, empty eyes stared up at Lambdadelta unblinkingly. Lambdadelta shivered.

"Fine. If you wish me to act the part of Furude Rika, then I suppose I will have to play dead. It would be more authentic if some birds were tearing at bits of my flesh, but we can't have it all, can we?"

"E-eww! That's gross! I don't want you pretending to be _**dead**_."

"I'm merely acting in character."

"Your character does more than get killed!"

"But that is the only part of Furude Rika's character I find interesting."

Lambdadelta scrunched up her nose, eyes narrowing in irritation. Then- with a sigh- she took off her nurses' hat and she said, "Fine, fine. Have it your way. Let's change."

Even though Lambdadelta was undoing the buttons of her dress, Bernkastel didn't move.

"Hey, what's wrong? Why aren't you changing?~~"

"I'm an innocent young flower. I don't want you watching me," said Bernkastel. Then- a small smirk beginning to tug at her lips- she said, her voice slightly more high-pitched than usual, "No, don't watch me! Pervert, pervert! Kyahhhh!"

Lambdadelta felt herself flush slightly at that performance.

"T-that was so cute…! Are you sure you don't want to be-"

"Yes."

Pouting, Lambdadelta turned about and undid the last few buttons of her dress.

"The things I do for you, Bern. Oyashiro-sama, give me strength."


	119. That's the power of love

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #119: That's the power of love

* * *

><p>It was another quiet day in the vast, endless expanses of meta world inhabited by the seventy two demons of the Ars Goetia. Many of the demons were still fairly young, having only been born by human imagination twenty or so years ago (in meta terms this equated to about six hundred years, but who was counting?). Amongst their ranks were none other than Zepar and Furfur, the undeniably cute twins who manifested the form of nine year old children. They were almost impossible to distinguish from each other save for their hair.<p>

There was a long story about that funny-colored hair, but we won't go into it right now.

Both demons were curled up in a corner of the meta world together (they were nearly always together), musing over the state of their existences. That was a dilemma most demons and magical creatures were a lot happier _not_musing over, given it could give them horrible headaches. There were even nightmare stories about powerful witches and sorcerers accidentally willing themselves out of existence in states of deep depression.

If even witches and sorcerers could destroy themselves so easily, then demons- who lived to be the furniture of such powerful beings- had to be even more careful not to obliterate themselves with errant thoughts over the tremulous nature of their existences.

What did it matter what humans classed as 'reality'? The demons could talk and think and speak and that was enough; that meant they were _alive_.

But the young twins were feeling despondent enough to begin to wonder…

"I hate being a demon," muttered Zepar.

"Me too," echoed Furfur.

"All the others have impressive powers-"

"-but our powers relate to _love_."

"How ridiculous."

"What can you do with _love_, anyway?"

"Sitri can reveal any woman's secret and shape shift…"

"And Leraje can inflict humans with hideous illnesses…"

"And Gaap can make portals!"

"Apparently she'd be able to control water too if she took her lessons more seriously…"

"But we can only control _love_."

"What a useless power."

"No wonder Gaap always makes fun of us."

"Yeah… No wonder."

Together, the two twins spoke their darkest fears; "Are we even real demons…?"

Together they sighed once more; both folded up on themselves like bits of discarded newspaper. They didn't look like proud demons being trained by King Bael, who would one day become furniture for witches. Instead, they looked like two young children whose favorite stuffed toy had been ripped apart and scattered across the floor before their eyes.

That was what they looked like when Ronove, who had been searching for Gaap, stumbled across them- quite literally.

He actually tripped Furfur's foot and fell on the floor.

The loud _thump_on impact didn't sound very healthy.

His glasses fell off his nose and skittered across the floor with a _skkkrt._

"Kyah! I'm sorry, Ronove!" squeaked Furfur.

"Are you okay?" asked Zepar, handing Ronove his glasses.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"N-no… It wasn't your fault." Smiling weakly, Ronove accepted his glasses; sliding them up the bridge of his nose once more. Then, he began to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand- not a very gentlemanly action, but neither was leaving it there. "I'm fine. It was my own fault for not looking where I was going, really. Don't worry."

Ronove beamed. The effect of his smile was absolutely devastating from close quarters, even to fellow demons. Ronove, another fairly young demon whose natural form was one of a child no older than ten, was really quite pretty, with his slight frame, pale skin and black hair. A lot of people confused Zepar and Furfur's genders, but Ronove looked even more like a girl than they did; especially given Gaap liked to mess around with his hair so much.

Zepar and Furfur didn't like Gaap very much. The curly-haired demon was always teasing them; boasting about how useful her powers were, in comparison to Zepar and Furfur's. Ronove was nice and all, but it was still a little awkward looking him in the eye when he was such good friends with such a horrible person.

How was he able to put up with Gaap?

Come to think of it, he never looked angry or upset. He hadn't even snapped when he fell on the floor, and that had looked quite painful. Noses weren't meant to bleed like that.

Furfur frowned. "You're too nice to be a demon."

"Other people will walk all over you," Zepar agreed.

"Just like Gaap."

Ronove only smiled. "I… don't particularly mind. Gaap might be a little childish- but I think that's why she needs somebody a little more mature to keep her in order. And I don't know why I can't be kind to people and a demon at the same time?"

"It's a contradiction in terms," said Zepar.

"A huge contradiction," Furfur echoed.

"It's not possible."

"It shouldn't be possible."

"But you two are always kind and polite. Are you claiming _you__'__re_ a contradiction in terms?"

Furfur looked at the floor abashedly, eyes downcast.

"We're not a contradiction, are we, Zepar?"

"No, we're not, Furfur."

"We can afford to be nice…"

"…because we're not even real demons."

"What do you mean, you're not real demons?"

"We don't have any real powers," Zepar explained tiredly. "Not like you. I imagine you'd be a pretty strong demon in time. So you should act the part."

"Stop being nice to people to us," Furfur agreed, sniffing slightly; wiping an arm under the eyes. "We'll just… drag you down…"

Ronove's eyes widened slightly in ill-disguised surprise.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd tripped over Furfur after all (maybe it was fate?), because they looked and sounded absolutely _miserable_. He had to help them.

"Don't be silly," said Ronove slowly, choosing his words carefully- each weighted with a genuine desire to cheer them up. "Your powers are far stronger than mine; even more powerful than Gaap's. Don't tell her I said that though, okay?~ Pu ku ku…"

Furfur blinked innocently, still wiping away tears of self pity that were beading up in the corner of the eyes.

"W-what… do you mean…?"

"Are you playing a trick on us?"

"No, I'm not. I promise. I may be Gaap's friend, but we're not _that_alike, you know. Don't you know how important the emotion of 'love' is?"

The twins looked at one another. Then, they shrugged.

"We don't really understand it."

"We don't need to understand it."

"We've never experienced human feelings like that."

"We're demons."

"So we don't know."

"W-well, um… I don't particularly understand love either… But I know it's incredibly important to humans. Haven't you read Romeo and Juliet?"

Soundlessly, the two twins shook their heads.

Ronove smiled. "Well, maybe you should read it. A lot of people end up dead because of love in the end. It's… quite depressing, really, haha…"

Furfur's mouth fell open slightly. "People… died… because of love…?"

Ronove nodded. "You see, my powers and Gaap's only affect physical elements of the human world- and if humans don't acknowledge our existence they're useless anyway, You, however, can affect humans psychologically, with one of their most predominant emotions- and most humans believe in love. They'd be unable to deny your powers. I think being able to manipulate emotions is far more useful than my skills, really… I'm not just saying that." Ronove smiled warmly. "So cheer up, alright?"

Zepar and Furfur looked at each other once more. Furfur's tears had all but dried up.

Powerful…?

Was it possible…?

T-they… could be even stronger than Gaap…?

Slowly, very slowly, a crooked grin spread across Zepar's face. Like a reflection in a mirror, the smile was echoed by Furfur.

If they really _were_ that strong then Gaap would never be able to laugh at them ever again. Instead, _they__'__d_be able to laugh at _her_. If humans didn't accept her powers, they couldn't be used… But, if almost all humans accepted 'love'- then they would be _unable_to deny Zepar and Furfur.

If they could control human emotions, then… they could control humans, too…

They'd finally be able to show Gaap they could be taken seriously.

They'd be able to get _revenge._

That was a very, very appealing idea indeed.

"Fufufufu…"

"Kihihihihihi…"

And then-

"Ronove, thank you so much!~ We love you!~~~ Gyahahaha!"

"O-ow!"

And with that, the twins threw themselves at Ronove in one powerful, co-ordinated attack-hug; knocking him back down to the floor.

His head hit the ground with a sick _thunk_.

Ronove whimpered slightly, the sounds of eerie laughter washing over him.

Had he unleashed something very evil upon the world by mistake?

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Looking up the Goetic demons… it seems like a lot of their powers were randomly drawn from hats XD Some have about five or six really awesome-sounding powers (like Gaap, who is also meant to be able to control water, see the past/future, make men invisible, create love/hate, make humans stupid and do the whole portal thing), and others only have one kind of useless sounding power (like Stolas, who knows a lot about… stones. Okay then. Real demonic power there XD That's what the people doing geology at my college learn, geez) And a lot of the demons' powers get duplicated, too… XD I think somebody got a bit bored making up these 72 demons, tbh… Ryukishi picked the best demons to use as characters from that bunch XDD  
>Anyway…<br>I have a whole bunch of shorts about younger versions of Gaap, Ronove, Virgilia, Zepar & Furfur that haven't been posted yet, haha ^_^

**~renahhchen**** xoxo**


	120. Goldfish

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #120: Goldfish

* * *

><p>"All seems to be well," said Nanjo once he'd finished the medical examination of his old friend. "I must say, if you were any man other than yourself, I would be surprised at how well you're faring, given…"<p>

Nanjo cast a furtive look at the chalice of hideous green liquid resting on a nearby table, but eventually decided not to comment. Admonishing Kinzo about his drinking habits was completely pointless. It didn't matter whether Nanjo gave his advice as a friend or a doctor- Kinzo still refused to listen.

He'd always been incredibly stubborn like that.

That was probably why he'd been so successful.

"Ahem, well… Despite your unusual habits and old age, you're faring remarkably, but I would expect nothing less from Ushiromiya Kinzo."

"You know me too well, friend. You wouldn't expect me to drop dead before we've finished our chess game, would you?"

Nanjo couldn't help but smile slightly. At this point, Kinzo's heart wasn't keeping him alive, no; it was his sheer obstinacy and determination.

However, chess wasn't the only reason Kinzo clung onto his lonely life in his dark study. Nanjo didn't want to listen to another one of Kinzo's rants about Beatrice, though; mainly because it was depressing, seeing the great Ushiromiya Kinzo reduced to a sobbing wreck over the memory of a woman he had lost a long time ago.

You couldn't bring the dead back to life. As a doctor, Nanjo knew that better than anyone.

Trying to accomplish this fruitless task only made the living suffer.

"Well, I believe I will be going now," said Nanjo, getting his feet. Perhaps it was cowardly trying to run from his friend's despair, but Nanjo never proclaimed he was a saint. "I'll just- oh… Oh dear."

It was at that moment, as Nanjo looked about Kinzo's bizarre study, a shrine to the occult, that he noticed something. There was a small goldfish tank in the corner of the room. The tank in itself was nothing unusual; in fact, it was shockingly normal compared to the other strange paraphernalia that littered Kinzo's office. Nanjo had noticed the tank before during his last visit, but he never thought to mention it. He'd always assumed it was a useless object that held no meaning to anybody other than Kinzo, just like the seven sacrificial knives and that broken mirror.

But Nanjo had never noticed, up until this moment, that the tank wasn't empty.

There was something inside it; something other than stagnant water.

It was a goldfish.

And it was dead.

Nanjo wondered how long the fish had been dead for, and wondered why the smell of its rotting corpse had not caught his attention earlier. The sickly, sugary sweet smell that filled Kinzo's office had managed to mask the foul stench of degeneration quite well. In fact, if one had not been aware there was a dead fish in the room, they wouldn't have noticed its smell at all.

Perhaps Kinzo simply hadn't noticed his pet was dead?

Kinzo had never been the most attentive parent. It only stood to reason he wouldn't be the most attentive pet owner, either.

"Kinzo," said Nanjo, peering into the murky contents of the tank (and then wishing he hadn't), "it appears, although you yourself are in fine condition, your pet is… not very well."

In a manner of speaking.

"Oh yes. That old thing. Don't pry, Nanjo; it's meant to be like that."

"But…"

Nanjo looked at the rotten fish corpse with a sense of trepidation. What on earth would Kinzo use a dead fish for? Was it part of some kind of demonic ceremony to resurrect the dead? Was he going to use this… rotten carcass to revive Beatrice?

Nanjo would have said that was too strange, but for Kinzo, _nothing_ was 'too strange'.

"And no, before you ask, it is not for some bizarre ceremony," said Kinzo, voice disparaging. "The fish is merely there to remind me it is dead and I am alive. The fish is most pitiful, isn't it? It's a reminder that I, myself, am not yet as pitiful as it is… Even though old age consumes me, even though I have lost her… I can still have cause to gloat over a creature more unfortunate than myself every once in a while. That's all."

"Oh…"

Nanjo turned his back on the dead fish in the dusty, murky tank, now rather disturbed. Somehow, the actual truth behind the fish's miserable existence (or non-existence)… was even more depressing than what he'd first assumed.

Perhaps it would have been better if the fish was for some strange ritual after all.

* * *

><p><strong>an:**I haven't written anything about these guys, geez o:  
>There are still so many characters to play about with~<br>To fanofgames, I found the picture on my avatar here:  
>http :  / www . pixiv . net/member_?mode=medium&illust_id=18925359  
>If you search on pixiv there's lots of good umineko art (some of which inspires me to write these shorts XD) but you have to search w the characters' Japanese names.

**~renahhchen ****xoxo**


	121. Two hearts beating

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #121: Two hearts beating

* * *

><p>She was seated under an arbour. Its marble columns were intertwined with roses. The roses should have been pretty, but they were strangely large and red… Voluptuous. It was almost as though the roses had hidden teeth; sharp, serrated edges to rip into flesh.<p>

There was something deadly about those roses.

Something lethal.

There was something not entirely right about _her_as well.

She was rather pretty; white skin, white hair, white dress. Her eyes were bright blue. Yet there was something distinctly limp and lifeless about her,. Her curly hair and long skirts did not move. They refused to be sifted even slightly- not even by the light breeze that drifted through the air.

She did not blink. She did not twitch. It did not even look as though she was breathing.

There was a cup of tea sat upon a saucer by the girl's right hand, resting atop of the table, but she made no move to take or drink it. It was a sad parody of a tea party indeed, when the host did not move and the lone guest had yet to take her seat.

The guest could not take a seat.

After all, she hadn't been invited to the table yet, and she was a proper lady who would wait for her host's permission to join the festivities. Her Teacher often made comments to the contrary, and, indeed, in most cases she would have barged into any tea party uninvited and taken the tea by force, smirking all the while, but she could not bring herself to do so here.

She would wait until her host told her to sit.

She would stand and wait.

Like a young girl (but she was not so very young now) she stood by the arbour hesitantly, fingers catching hold of her dress. She tugged at the fabric in a twitchy paroxysm of badly concealed nerves.

The seconds slowly dragged by as if weighed down with lead, but still her silent host did not speak. The host did not turn her head. Did not blink, breathe, twitch; nothing.

Still and lifeless, just like a doll.

The witch slowly felt a strange kind of anger rise up inside her. It was an anger kindled by fear, and that was the worst kind of anger of all. Why had her host invited her to a party if she would not ask her to sit? Really, it was terribly rude- didn't that stupid woman know who she _was_?

Quite forgetting her fear (or, rather, she did not forget, but tried to pretend it had ever existed), the witch stalked forwards, shoes hitting the stone floor of the arbour with a light noise; _tap,__tap,__tap_.

Her host still did not stir.

She might as well have been dead.

Dead…?

_Don't be silly._

Fuelled by a sudden, self-righteous rage (_I__shouldn__'__t__be__kept__waiting__like__this!_) the witch reached forwards. Her fingers grabbed hold of the exposed shoulders of the pale girl and dug in tightly. She shook her host. She moved obligingly as she was shaken, with no will to stop herself or stop the witch.

She moved like a rag doll.

And, as the witch's hands pressed against that yielding pale skin, a hideous metamorphosis began to occur.

That skin, which had already been so pale before, became whiter still- the same sickly hue as leprosy. She was a corpse; a sufferer of some horrible plague or pestilence, to the point where she would not have blinked if grave worms made themselves home amongst her cheek or eye. Even her lips were devoid of any color. The light splashes of pale pink on either cheek began to bloom in reverse until they became unopened buds of alabaster.

As she shook the girl her life- or what little remained of it- slowly drained away under her fingertips. It soon became unquestionably clear the little doll in frothy white lace no longer had any right to host a tea party at all.

Corpses generally don't make good companions at the tea table. Their conversation is somewhat lacking, you see.

And yet, the longer the witch stared at the pale face of her had-been host, the more her fingers gripped into her skin. Purple bruises formed on the chalky white flesh. The witch's lips contorted into an almost wolfish snarl. The other girl was dead- clearly dead; but how dare she die without _her__permission_?

Was her host really so stupid she did not understand mere mortals couldn't die until the witch had said they could?

How disgraceful.

Perhaps the witch thought she could force life back into that body if she kept shaking it, or perhaps she was merely lashing out at the corpse in a show of mingled fear and anger- but, for whatever reason, her grip did not slacken.

At least, not until the skin under her hands started to peel off.

But peel is not the right word.

It shattered.

Like a priceless doll being dropped on the floor so, too, did the corpse's face distort most horribly- seeming to implode in on itself in sharp shards of pale porcelain. The cheeks, nose, lips; all fractured in a series of jagged lines like spider webs. The fingers crumbled to dust.

But the eyes…

The eyes were still a vivid bright blue.

Bands of color in glass marbles.

Those eyes looked oddly familiar.

They were…

They were…

With a loud scream, the witch jumped gracelessly away from the fracturing doll pretending to be a girl. Without the support of her hands, the doll-girl fell face forwards onto the table top, to little fanfare or commotion. The girl did not scream as her face met the teacup and the table top in one fell swoop; made no noise of pain as fine boned china bit into the remainder of her once-dainty features; did not cry as her head, like that of an exquisitely carved but very delicate porcelain, shattered in on itself in a bloodless oblivion.

The girl could not scream because she did not have a heart. It had departed the skeleton a long time ago.

That heart now resided inside the chest of another. It pumped blood for the second Beatrice; the Beatrice who had stolen the thoughts and feelings of the former and crammed them all inside her pretty little body.

The _other _Beatrice.

The other Beatrice did have a heart. She had a brain, too, and lungs, and a mouth, and she could bleed; she could scream.

She did both to great excess when her own body began to fall apart.

* * *

><p>"Beato! Beato, what's wrong? Are you alright?"<p>

Beatrice's frantic screams melted into low, soft whimpers; wet sobs that continued to wrack her frail body even as her Teacher wrapped her arms round her tightly and tried to rouse her from her nightmares.

Beatrice could only tremble weakly, just like a child, with her head buried in her Teacher's chest. At that moment, she had no more right to proudly call herself the Golden Witch than an ant on the floor did.

"Shh, there, there, it's alright," Virgilia soothed, cradling Beatrice gently, warmly. "It was just a bad dream. It'll be alright; it'll be fine…"

A bad dream?

Beatrice could have laughed, were she not so busy crying helplessly instead.

It was more like a bad memory.

And a bad life.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** I think this one was meant to be slightly creepy, ahaha… It doesn't really fit the 'humor' genre XD  
>Wow, look, it's Clair o: I haven't written about her yet either, and I love Clair :3<br>Um, this one might be kind of difficult to understand? Well, it's my fanon opinion Clair (Yasu's 1st Beatrice) was actually 'killed' when the 2nd Beatrice was made to replace her, most of her thoughts/memories getting transferred to the 2nd Beatrice and leaving behind a corpse… hence her empty appearance in the 7th game. So I guess this dream is a survivor's guilt kind of thing between the 1st Beatrice (who died) and the 2nd (who survived).

I'm not really sure why I concealed using Beato's name until the end. For effect, I guess. Even though it was plainly obvious who the two characters the start were... but constantly using epithets instead of names was incredibly annoying, and probably not worth the eventual payoff… XD  
>I do try to experiment every now and again though XD<p>

Um, to fanofgames, did you remove all the spaces from the link? it should work fine then... :3

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	122. Praise

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #122: Praise

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling, M'am?"<p>

A few seconds ago Natsuhi's face had been taught with stress. However, the moment she began to drink the pumpkin tea Reinon had prepared, the harsh lines carved by age and pressure began to melt away. It looked as though years had been deducted from her age. Reinon could have easily believed Nautshi was only in her late twenties, as opposed to being almost forty.

Natsuhi didn't smile very often. Her lips were usually pursed in irritation, or frowning from constant headaches.

When she did smile, however… she looked very pretty.

Reinon couldn't help but feel a small flush of pride as she realized it was her pumpkin tea, the tea she had meticulously prepared with complete perfection, which had made Natsuhi smile like that.

Being appreciated felt so warm…

If only the other maids would smile at her like that sometimes. Then, maybe she wouldn't feel so unwanted.

Reinon sighed. It wasn't like she cared about their opinions, though- she… she really didn't. Not at all. She wasn't working to please Ruon or Sanon- which was a good thing, considering it was almost impossible to please the curly-haired, short-tempered maid. Reinon worked because she _liked_working and she wanted to make something of her life.

That was it.

But, when other people benefitted from her work, and she made them smile, she felt even happier.

Reinon's tea had made Natsuhi smile, and that was all Reinon cared about.

"It's… very good," said Natsuhi, her voice almost tentative. She didn't praise her servants often, mainly because she was afraid they would take it as an opportunity to walk all over her, but she was not so cold-hearted she wouldn't give credit where credit was due. "Mm… I think this tea may be the best I've ever tasted."

"R-really? You mean it?" Quite forgetting herself, Reinon exclaimed it a little too loudly, too excitably. Her eyes were shining.

Natsuhi winced slightly at this outburst, her soft gaze becoming a little sharper.

"Please keep your voice down. It's unbecoming of a maid to be so unruly- remember your place."

Blushing, Reinon bowed her head.

"Y-yes, M'am…"

"Very well. You may leave now," said Natsuhi curtly. "And try to be more composed next time."

"Certainly…"

Bowing once more, Reinon exited the room, closing the door behind her softly. She couldn't believe she'd been so foolish- she had no right to get so excited… I-it was embarrassing! Natsuhi had been right to scold her.

And yet…

The moment Reinon was out in the corridor, when Natsuhi couldn't see her, she couldn't stop a small, silly smile from spreading across her face.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Reinon being Belphegor's servant form, of course. The poor girl just wants some praise XD~  
>I am working on a Halloween request ficlet for this collection, have like… 2 parts done. Might not get it finished all on time ._.ll But I will try my best.<br>To Fan of Games, yeah sure you can save the picture- I didn't draw it XD

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	123. In my shopping basket

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #123: In my shopping basket

* * *

><p>"Okay, lesse… in my shopping basket I have apples, bananas, carrots and… ducklings?"<p>

"Why would you have ducklings in your basket, Battler, you _dummy_?" nine-year-old Jessica said, prodding Battler in the cheek. "Why don't you play by the rules?"

"Well, I couldn't think of anything else that began with a 'D'," said Battler stubbornly, folding his arms. "And ducklings are kind of adorable…?"

"Adorable?"

"Yeah~ They're all fluffy, just like your hairrr~ Ihihi~" Grinning, Battler reached forwards to bat at Jessica' blonde ponytail- but, scowling, Jessica only pushed him away.

"What shop are you going to buy ducklings at anyway? And why would you put them in a shopping basket with food? Isn't that unsanitary?"

"That's a pretty big word for a giiirlll like you to know."

"Mom uses it all the time when she's shouting at the servants. And don't call me a girl!"

"Well, you _are_ one, aren't you?"

"I'm more of a man than you! I don't go around saying how adorable ducklings are- and I wouldn't want to put them in my shopping basket, either!"

"Why do you care about the ducklings so much anyway? It doesn't matter what I say, it's just a memory game…"

"Alright, alright," said Jessica, still scowling. "I'll accept it, but it's really stupid. 'Kay. In my shopping basket I have apples, bananas, carrots, _ducklings_and… an elephant."

"An elephant wouldn't fit in a shopping basket!"

"Well you just said it didn't matter what I chose!"

"It seems kinda hypo… hypo… hippopotamus that you want to put a whole **elephant**in a shopping basket after you yelled at me about how impractical the _ducklings_were for ages! You said the ducklings would be unsanitary, but putting an elephant on some apples and bananas would crush them."

"It's just a game!"

"Stop changing the rules, then!"

"I only changed them for you!"

"You're such a girl!"

"And you're such a_stupid_!"

"Whoa, whoa. That's not a nice thing to say, Jessica. Battler isn't stupid."

"George…?"

Both and Jessica and Battler turned to look at their super-smart teenage cousin (he was already fourteen! That was so old!) in confusion. George had previously been engaged in conversation with some of the adults in the mansion whilst Jessica and Battler sat outside playing word games, but they hadn't heard him come outside.

"Why are you arguing?" asked George, smiling as he patted Jessica's head. "It's not nice to hear children shouting at each other like that."

"Jessica wanted to put an elephant in the shopping basket!"

"Only 'cause Battler put some ducklings in there first!"

"Where would you buy an elephant, anyway? At least you can get baby ducks from the market!"

"Elephants? This sounds like an interesting game."

"We're playing 'in my shopping basket'," Battler explained.

"Oh? The memory game? The one where you take it in turns to add something new to the list, going down alphabetically, and you have to try and memorize it all?"

Battler and Jessica nodded.

"I can't remember what we're on anymore now, though," said Battler. "All because _she_ changed it."

Jessica stuck out her tongue.

"Alright, calm down," said George, using his reasonable 'adult' voice. "Why don't we all play it together?"

There was a small pause. Then, finally, both Battler and Jessica muttered, "…'Kay."

Thus, George, with his amazing people skills, had managed to bring their little dispute to a shaky truce.

"Do you want to start, Jessica?" asked George. "We can go around clockwise, so that's you, Battler and then me. And, to make it more fun… You don't have to say food items. You can say anything you want, no matter how ridiculous, okay?"

"But what about the shopping basket?" Battler asked.

"It's a magical shopping basket."

"Hehehe… Okay," Jessica repeated, giggling. Big cousin George was so nice, even if he did talk like her mother did sometimes. Natsuhi never played games like this with her, though. "Um, let's see… In my shopping basket I have… an aardvark?"

Batter continued, "In my shopping basket I have an aardvark and a bomb~"

"Hm… Those are interesting items, aren't they?" George grinned. "Well, in _my_shopping basket I have an aardvark, a bomb and… hmm… Some chloroflurocarbons?"

There was a pause.

Battler and Jessica looked at each other in confusion.

Then, they turned to George and glared.

"Hey! You learnt that word in big school!"

"We don't know what it means!"

"You're cheating!"

"That's not _fair_!"

George could only laugh sheepishly.

Maybe… that was a bit mean.

Perhaps he should have stuck to something nice and simple for 'C', like 'cat'.

* * *

><p><strong>an:**It's a memory game I always used to play when I was a child with my cousins, usually during long car journeys… XD I was always pretty good at it XD I realize this wouldn't necessarily work as the characters are Japanese, so their alphabet is different to ours', but by that line of logic I wouldn't be able to use puns or any other language-based jokes in these stories, which wouldn't be very much fun...


	124. Candy and cavities

**Being ****Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #124: Candy and cavities

* * *

><p>"Woah! That's amazing, Beato, amazing! Uuu, uu!"<p>

"W-why, thank you… U-um, I mean…" Beatrice tried to fight against her embarrassment. Flushed cheeks be damned (it was nice being praised…), she stuck her nose up in the air and said regally, "of _course_ I'm amazing!~ This sort of magic is easy for me; **too** easy! Ha!"

"Uuu, is that so? Maria wishes she could make magic like this too!"

"…Are you sure?" said Beatrice after a short pause, her arrogant mask slipping just a little. "It's really basic magic, Maria. Anybody can make candies come from a cup."

"No," said Maria, smiling brightly, "not just anyone! Only a witch; a witch like Beato! Uuu, uu! Maria wants to make candy, too!"

Beatrice laughed softly. "Ahaha, w-well… It's very simple if you just believe; and I can tell you believe a great deal, Maria. Magic would be no problem for-"

"_Urgh_. This is what you two are always talking about? This is so sugary sweet I could _vomit_! You're booooring me, Beato!~"

Maria whirled around in surprise. She didn't recognize that voice. It certainly wasn't Virgilia.

Who was this person who was interrupting her teatime with Beatrice?

It was a young girl with blonde hair and a _very_pink-themed dress. Bits and pieces of candy were mixed up in her hair, along with a multitude of ribbons. Overall, she looked like a piece of angel cake.

A piece of angel cake with a _very_sour expression on its face.

"Huh? Who are you, uu, uu? Are you a witch friend of Beato's, like Teacher?"

"Mmm~ Well, I suppose you _could_ call us friends of sorts, fufufu!~ But maybe you could say… I'm her _guardian_instead? I'm a witch on the grand council-"

"You _were_on the council, until Lady Bernkastel stole your spot."

"Shut up, Beato, the adults are talking! Anyway, as I was saying… Oh yeah, I'm a pretty important witch- way more senior than Beato here; she's basically a little kid!- so if you want to be a witch one day you really need my A-OK, okay? Fufufu!" The cake-like witch giggled, patting Beatrice on the head.

Beatrice's face turned pink, and Maria couldn't help but laugh. Beatrice looked like a schoolgirl who was being embarrassed by an overly enthusiastic parent.

"I'm Lady Lambdadelta," said Pinkie Pie, smiling impishly, "but if that name is a little too long for a brat like you then you can call me Lambda."

"No, it's okay! Don't worry- Maria can remember long names! Maria knows the names of all the seventy two goethic demons off by heart, and she can quote any psalm from the Old Testament! Remembering Lambdadeltais a piece of cake!"

Lambdadelta's brows raised slightly in surprise.

"Ooh, she _is_a clever little girl, isn't she, Beee~ato?~ Fufufu~ I think I quite like her after all! She'd make a very good witch one day!"

"Thank you, Lady Lambdadelta!" said Maria, curtseying. "I'm very pleased to meet a witch like you, uu!"

"Haha, well~ You should be." Lambdadelta giggled. "Oh, I know! Why don't I give you a present, Maria, just because you're so super-smaaaart and cuute?"

"A-a present? You're giving Maria a present? What is it?"

"Oh, it's a little like the magic Beato was showing you earlier- but it's _far_ more refined and elegant. Just look."

Lambdadelta picked the willow patterned teacup from the table that Beatrice had drawn candies from earlier. She threw it deftly in the air, catching it before it could smash against the tabletop. Then- with one swift, graceful movement- she placed it upside down and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Maria swore, if she strained her ears just a little, she could hear a faint… rumbling sound… coming from underneath the cup…?

Lambdadelta smirked, putting her hands on her hips. "There! You can check underneath now, ufufufuuu~ Ohhh, but don't think any less of Beato's magic after this display, okaaaay?"

"Maria would never doubt Beato, uu, uu!"

Maria reached forwards, plucking the teacup off the table-

"Wow!"

And was _amazed_ by the huge- no, _gargantuan-_ mountain of brightly wrapped candies and sugar-covered cookies that (somehow) been resting underneath. H-how had it all fit under? It didn't matter though; t-this was, this was-

"A-amazing! Really amazing!"

"I'm glad you think so," said Lambda, giving Maria a salute. "Well, I hope to see you again, Miss New Witch! Until then, have fun playing tea parties with this adorable little child here, okay?~ Kyahahahahaha!"

And with that, Lambdadelta vanished.

Maria was so entranced by the huge pile of candy she didn't see the ugly look on Beatrice's face. Obviously, the great Golden Witch didn't like being upstaged at her own tea party.

Maria noticed soon enough, however.

"Uu… Beato," said Maria softly, taking hold of the blonde witch's hand, "what's wrong?"

Beatrice scowled. "T-that Lambdadelta… always showing off…"

"D-don't be angry, uu, uu! Maria still thinks Beato is the best witch she's ever met!"

"H-hn?" Beatrice looked at Maria in shock. "Really? Are you just trying to be kind?"

"Of course not! Maria thinks- no, Maria _knows_- that Beatrice is amazing! Beato just does her magic in a more elegant manner. Why use lots of candies when you could use one? Maria thinks _one_is more refined!"

"Yes… y-yes…" said Beatrice, after a small pause. Her signature smirk slowly began to flicker across her face once more. "Small pieces of evidence here and there, tantalizing clues and tiny pieces of proof about your existence, really _are_more elegant than punching somebody else in the face with the full force of your magic! Murder mysteries wouldn't be interesting if _all_ the characters died in chapter one, after all! Maria, you're absolutely right!~"

"Yay! Maria made Beato happy, kikiki~ That's all Maria wants. Maria doesn't need candy if Beato's happy!"

Beatrice smiled warmly.

"You really are a kind girl, Maria."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Lambdadelta was watching the sugary sweet scene play out before her with ill-disguised <em>rage<em>, gnawing violently on a pillow cadged from Bernkastel's bed.

"Kyahhh! How **dare** they be happy when my beloved Bern has gone to attend some totally dull and _booooring_ meeting at the witch's council for a whole week? How am **I **going to entertain myself when she's not here? I thought I could at least give Maria toothache, but she won't even eat my candy! This sucks!"


	125. EXTRA: Letters from Eiserne Jungfrau

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short 125: Letters from Eiserne Jungfrau

* * *

><p>Let it be known that I am very pleased to speak to you, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>. My name is Cornelia. I am a third class priest under the employment of the very respectable Eiserne Jungfrau, the Great Court of Heaven.

I am sure you have heard of us. Well, you must have, if you are able to write about us. Our activities have been publicized before, most notably in a series of stories by _Ryukishi07_ (surely not his real name; much as _Renahhchen_ cannot be your real name). Therefore, I will not take issue with the fact you are writing about us. However, let it be known that if you attempt to divulge knowledge about our more important and secretive missions, we of Eiserne Jungfrau will not hesitate to punish you very severely. You have be warned.

Furthermore, on a somewhat unrelated point, your portrayal of me in your stories is rather… cruel. It does not particularly bother me, and I do not care if you drag my name through the dirt so long as Eiserne Jungfrau as a whole remains untouched, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could refrain from penning malicious tales in which I am routinely embarrassed for the sake of 'humor'. Mocking those who have been publically shamed is not 'humor', it's little more than bullying- and to be honest, it's quite hurtful… … I realize I'm not the best at my job, but I do _try_, you know? I am too thick-skinned to take a real issue with this, but I wish you would _decease._

Moreover… … the other priests in our office are taking these stories as an opportunity to make fun of me further… … …

Not that I care.

Let it be known that I do not care.

I do not care what you write about.

At all.

From,  
>Cornelia, Third Class Priest, Eiserne Jungfrau, the Great Court of Heaven<p>

* * *

><p>Hello, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>. Let it be known that it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, even if it is only through the written word, instead of face to face. My name is Gertrude. I am- as you are doubtless already aware- a first class priest of Eiserne Jungfrau, hailing from the Great Court of Heaven.

I recently discovered you had written a handful of stories about my colleagues and me. It was quite surprising, honestly, because I mainly serve as a supporting character in the stories spun by _Ryukishi07_. I was never the centre of attention. In fact, I doubt I am interesting enough to warrant being in any stories at all, for I am a fairly normal person. However, if you wish to write about me that is fine, and I am very flattered. Thank you.

As I hear your stories are read by a handful of people, would it trouble you greatly if you could include the following advertisement in one of your stories? It would be an easier way to broadcast the news, and I hope sharing it does not inconvenience you in any manner.

One of my cats has recently given birth to kittens, seven in total, and although they're very cute there are far too many for me to take care of. I think finding a stray calico in my sock drawer this morning was proof a few of them need to find new homes. I will miss them dearly, but I fear I would be unable to bring them up properly all by myself. For further details, please see Gertrude, first class priest in Eiserne Jungfrau, office 707 of the Great Court of Heaven.

Oh, but please, do not give this advertisement to the likes of Lady Bernkastel or Lady Lambdadelta. I fear what they would do my kittens. And, please, under no circumstances are you to tell Miss Beelzebub. I have heard the stories from Miss Virgilia, and she says Miss Beelzebub truly **is**an extreme omnivore. If my cats end up in the digestive system of Miss Beelzebub I would be really quite upset.

I think Miss Virgilia might be interested in my offer; she has a very motherly nature, just like me. Perhaps Mr. Wright's pet, Diana, might appreciate a playmate as well… although Diana is quite territorial, so that may not be a good idea… … Or you could tell Cornelia. I fear the poor girl gets lonely sometimes, no matter how hard she tries to pretend to the contrary, so the company would probably be good for her.

And on a slightly more serious note… I have no intention of telling you what to write but please, Miss _Renahhchen_, could you desist telling such embarrassing tales about Cornelia? She's a very sweet girl and she doesn't deserve the abuse. I think it's upsetting her. Just the other day, she spilt a cup of tea over herself, and somehow managed to get her hair stuck in the filing cabinet… I'm not saying her inherent clumsiness is your fault, but reading those stories seem to have affected her concentration more so than usual.

Yours sincerely,  
>~First-class priest: Gertrude<p>

* * *

><p>Hello, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>. I am Dlanor A. Knox, the Chief Inquisitor of Eiserne Jungfrau. Gertrude told me I should write you a letter to say I am very grateful you have written a few stories about me, so I have written you a letter. I hope you are in good health, and please keep writing stories.

I am sorry for the brevity of this letter, but I must be quick. If Gertrude realizes I have reused the same you letter I sent to _Ryukishi07 _and the other nice people who write stories about me she would make me do it again, and that would be a pain. Gertrude also says my writing is 'redundant', but I don't like writing very much because it's boring.

Yours sincerely… truthfully… or amicably… … or all three,  
>Chief inquisitor of Eiserne Jungfrau: Dlanor A. Knox<p>

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I love these three characters, I should write about them more~ I hope all the characters in these 1st person letters thus far have suitably different 'voices' ^_^;;  
>Anyway, tomorrow will be a mass update of the whole Halloween ficlet, which is now done, but needs to be proofread. Yayy~ *celebrates*<p>

**~renahhchen**** xoxo**


	126. Grim grinning ghosts, part 1

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much**** Fun  
><strong>Short #126: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 1

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><p>"This feels like such a waste of time…"<p>

"Aww, come on, Ange! Don't be a spoilsport!"

"That's right! We just wanna have fun!"

"I think you already have too much fun as it is," said Ange, looking between Asmodeus and Beelzebub with narrowed eyes. "I'm far too nice to you. You'll get spoilt."

Asmodeus pouted childishly. "No, you're not too nice- not at all!"

"Treat us, Ange! You need to keep treating us!" Beelzebub chipped in.

Ushiromiya Ange sighed.

Ange was standing in her kitchen, fingers dyed with orange pulp, and she was methodically carving a face into a pumpkin as she conversed with Beelzebub and Asmodeus. Ange was styling the face in the oversized vegetable ('it's actually a _fruit_,' Beelzebub had informed her, hands on hips) after her oh-so-_lovely_Aunt Eva, which was probably why it was so frightening.

Ange's grip on the knife tightened.

Her eyes narrowed.

Ange had moved on, somewhat, since her initial hatred of Eva. It taken her almost ten years to realize it, but she'd been consumed with an unhealthy kind of anger; the sort of anger that sucked all the joy out of life and made it drab, dull, grey. Ange was a little older now, and she'd forced herself to 'turn over the chessboard' (as her mother always used to say) and look at everything from Eva's perspective, instead of hers'.

Ange no longer believed Eva was the real culprit, and she supposed she sympathized with the old hag just a little, given how miserable she must have been after the deaths of her husband and child.

When they died so, too, had some part of Eva.

Ange understood Eva's feelings and she forgave her. Ange had learnt somewhere along the way that trying to uncover the truth about the deaths on Rokkenjima was a waste of time; the truth wouldn't save her family, it wouldn't bring them back.

Knowing who the culprit was would give her somebody to blame, somebody to hate, but it wouldn't make her life any better.

She had to move forwards.

That was precisely what Ange was trying to do to.

But that still didn't mean she had to _like_ Eva.

She hated her.

Even so, she wasn't going to let that hatred spoil her life anymore.

"Ange? Ange, are you okay?"

Ange started slightly, eyes widening. Her grip on the knife slackened.

She hadn't realized she'd been spacing out so badly.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," said Ange, voice somewhat stilted, unnatural. "I was just… thinking."

"Ooh. 'Thinking'," Asmodeus echoed, with slightly worried tones. "That doesn't sound good…"

"Yeah. Belphegor's _always_ thinking, and it only makes her sad. Beato used to think a lot, too, and it just upset her. When you get that look on your face I worry about you, Ange!" said Beelzebub seriously.

Slowly, warmth began to well up in Ange. Having friends was, for lack of a better word… nice. She had spent so much of her life alone, hated by Eva, hated by the girls in her boarding school, hated by Kasumi, that she still wasn't used to people actually caring about her.

Ange didn't want to worry the stakes by sharing her thoughts about her past with them. They were having fun, anticipating Halloween tomorrow, and she couldn't spoil that.

Ange sighed, running a free hand through her bangs- the rest of her hair being tied up in a ponytail. She managed to smear a few pumpkin seeds on the side of her cheek, but the two youngest stakes felt the current situation wasn't suitable for them to point it out.

"There's nothing wrong," said Ange, after a short pause. "I'm fine. It's just a little annoying that you guys want to celebrate Halloween- a holiday _I_find absolutely ridiculous- but you're making me do all the work. Halloween isn't even that popular in Japan, you know. Going to an Obon festival would be more traditional."

"We've been to a festival like that before, though!"

"We want to celebrate a Western festival!"

"Exactly. _You_ want to do this, not me, so you guys should help out more," said Ange, folding her arms. "Belphegor and Lucifer are making those little origami ghosts, Satan went to buy whatever decorations she could find, and the others are making their costumes. You two aren't doing anything."

"Well, we would help," said Beelzebub, "but there's nothing we can do…"

"Yeah. Don't be mad with us, Ange. We just want to have some fun celebrating with you!"

"I know that, and I'm very happy, but you should still pull your weight a bit more. Beelzebub, of course there's something you can do. Why don't you try and carve the pumpkin instead?"

"Eh? I can't do that- I'd only want to eat it! That was what happened last time…"

Ange rolled her eyes. "Then go and help Leviathan and Lucifer with your costumes or something. I thought you were going to go trick-or-treating? I'm not sure how much candy you'll get, but wasn't that your plan?"

"Ooh, I think I can make my outfit, maybe… Dressing up is really fun!~ And if my outfit's good, maybe I'll get more food… If I got some pigs' blood from the butcher's, I could even put it down my chin, and then I'd make the most convincing Lucy Westenra _ever_!~ Could I get some pigs' blood?"

"Do what you want," said Ange tiredly, pressing her fingers against her temples. "Just keep out of trouble."

"Okie dokie!~ You can count on me, Milady!"

And, so saying, Beelzebub turned about and ran off, blonde pigtails bouncing.

Looking somewhat deflated, Ange slumped down on a nearby chair. She felt exhausted- and she looked it, too.

Sometimes, dealing with the stakes made her feel like a teenage mother with too many children.

That, or a kindergarten teacher.

"U-um… Are you okay, Ange?" asked Asmodeus.

"…I'm fine."

"You look a little sad… Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Don't worry so much, Asmodeus," said Ange, trying to placate the youngest stake with a small smile.

Asmodeus didn't need to know that she'd started reminiscing; it wasn't like she could do anything to change Ange's past.

"O-okay then…" Asmodeus fidgeted slightly, looking between Ange and the half-carved pumpkin. "Do you, um, want me to finish that…?"

"I would be very grateful, yes."

"O-okay! I'll do my best!"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Asmo, what're you doing?"<p>

"E-eh?" Asmodeus wheeled around, knife in hand, in a manner that might have been quite frightening… were it not for the pink apron round her middle and those girlish pigtails. They spoilt the 'serial killer' look somewhat.

Oh, and her knife was covered in pumpkin innards, not blood.

"Hn? You're carving a pumpkin?" asked Mammon, as she inspected the fruits of Asmodeus' handiwork (no pun intended). "Hehe~ For_ you_, it looks pretty good!"

"Thank you!" said Asmodeus brightly, completely missing the sarcasm in Mammon's voice. "I worked hard on it! Oh, but, Ange did most of it."

Mammon turned to look at Ange. She was lying on the table in a position that looked the exact opposite of comfy, with her eyes closed, lips parted. She was fast asleep.

"I guess she's working hard to make us all happy… Poor thing," Mammon muttered to herself, smiling fondly at the sleeping form at Ange. "Ah, but anyway!~" As though somewhat embarrassed by her sudden display of softness, Mammon's eyes hardened, and she turned to glare at Asmodeus with a certain severity about her face. "You're kind of annoying, Asmo!"

"E-eh? What brought this on? What did I do…?"

Mammon folded her arms. "You're getting really into this Halloween thing, but you don't even like scary movies. How can you say you'll celebrate a holiday like this if you're such a baby?"

"I-I'm not a baby!"

"Yes you are. Poor little youngest sister~" Mammon cooed, tugging gently at one of Asmodeus' pigtails. "You're an embarrassment to the rest of us, you know. I don't understand how you can be scared of horror movies when you're a _stake __of __purgatory_… It's kind of funny, I guess, fufufufu~"

"S-stop it! I don't know why you're picking on me, but I didn't do anything wrong!"

The real reason behind Mammon's vindictive nature was a mystery, but it might have had something to do with the fact Asmodeus was spending more time with Ange than _she_was as of late. Everybody knew Mammon was incredibly selfish and greedy- even more so than Beelzebub, who only coveted food. Mammon didn't just want to possess food, though; she wanted to posses _everything_.

As such, she found seeing Asmodeus and Ange so close upsetting- especially when _she_was meant to be Ange's best friend.

Asmodeus may have been the youngest sister, but Mammon was easily one of the most immature. At least, she was it came to human relationships. She hadn't quite mastered the art of having proper friendships yet.

"I don't think you have any right to go trick-or-treating with the rest of us if you couldn't even watch all of _Kwaidan_!" Mammon said, leering. "It wasn't even scary."

"B-being a stake of purgatory has nothing to do with being able to watch horror movies! If something scary tried to attack me in real life I could just stake it to death, but when stuff like that happens on a TV screen you can't defend yourself! I-I just really hate jump scares, okay?"

Mammon's lip curled. "Aww, poor Asmo. You're such a child."

"No I'm _not_!"

"Oh?~" Mammon's eyes glinted dangerously. "Then why don't you _prove _it?"

"How exactly can I prove something like that?"

"It's simple really, kihihi… There's this creepy old house in the forest not too far away from here, and people say it's haunted by ghosts- _real__ ghosts_! Why don't you try and stay there overnight, hn?~ _Then_ we'll see if you have any right to go trick-or-treating with us or not!"

At the mention of 'ghosts', Asmodeus' face turned chalky white. She knew it was foolish, being so afraid of horror stories- especially when _she_was a 'horror story' herself, given her fearsome abilities to maim and mutilate. Ghosts were different, though...

Ghosts really _were_ scary.

Humans said demons were terrifying, but Asmodeus knew a good many demons, and they were nice people. Asmodeus had never met a vampire, zombie or ghost before, so she didn't know if they'd be friendly or not- or if they'd even be hurt by any of her attacks.

Wasn't it normal to find things like that terrifying?

_She_was the normal one for being scared, right…?

"I… I… I-I…"

"Oh?~ You can't do it?" Mammon sniggered. "I didn't think you could. You always were a complete liability, little sister. How pathetic; witch's furniture being afraid of made up monsters!"

Asmodeus bit her lower lip. She tried to remain calm and, aloof, just like Ange always was, but…

B-but…

Was she _really_ a liability? Was that what all her sisters thought of her?

She knew she was the youngest, and she knew her attacks weren't particularly strong or graceful; not like Belphegor or Lucifer, or even Leviathan, could be, but she didn't hold everybody back, did she?

Her eyes began to sting. It felt just a little like she was going to cry.

"F-fine! If you really want me to do it, I'll do it! I'm not scared!"

"Hoh?~ Really?" Mammon sniggered. "Well, we'll just see about that, won't we… You really are pathetic, little sister~ It doesn't matter what you do; you can't change your nature so easily! It's fine, though; some people are just born cowards, and you have to accept it, kukukuku~"

Asmodeus whimpered.

W-why did she have to prove herself all the time? Why was she… the one who was picked on… …?

"_Mammon_."

At that moment, Mammon jumped, as though a syringe had been jabbed roughly into her jugular. The look of horror on her face was not all that dissimilar to an illustration by Umezu Kazuo.

"A-ah, A-ange! It's nice to see you're awake, ahaha… ha…"

But Mammon's laughter died in her throat.

Ange looked positively murderous.

All of a sudden, Mammon's heart seemed to freeze and turn rock solid, just like a piece of hard candy.

"A-ange… P-please don't hurt me! I was just kidding!"

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Yay, Halloween story is finally gonna be posted. It's a little different to my usual style in that it's more descriptive with the setting and there isn't as much dialogue… and I don't like doing descriptions very much, so it should be interesting to see whether it works or not XD Although it's 'horror' (I guess…) I still tried to keep it fairly light-hearted and humorous. It's not, like, totally gory or anything, so don't worry ^_^;;

Most of this story has a very Western in feel, so to counteract it I made a conscious effort to at sporadically scatter some mentions of Japanese folklore/Halloween-related stuff here and there. I also referenced a few other horror characters and the like, so I'll describe any of this stuff as it comes up in the author notes. Forgive me if you already know all this stuff- I don't want to sound patronizing or anything. I just thought some people might like to know…?

So…~

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<strong>

_Halloween__ isn__'__t __even__ that __popular __in __Japan: _Halloween isn't a Japanese holiday, and only began to be observed as a holiday around the 1980s. The Umineko segments with Ange take place in 1998, so although it wouldn't be entirely unheard, I'm not sure how many people would really 'celebrate' it.

_Obon__ festival: _Is a traditional Japanese festival that involves families visiting the graves of their dead relatives and paying their respects, and the spirits of the dead are meant to return from the land of the dead. It also involves carnivals and other fun stuff, and takes place in July or August.

_Lucy__ Westenra: _One of the heroines in Dracula, who ends up being bitten by the titular vampire and becoming a member of the undead herself. She's an annoying character and I didn't like her very much… XD Then again, I didn't like Dracula as a whole very much, either...

_Kwaidan: _A Japanese horror movie made in 1960. The title literally means 'ghost story', and is a collection of Japanese folk tales.

_Umezu__ Kazuo: _A Japanese mangaka who did a lot of horror manga. _The__ Drifting __Classroom_, published in 1975, is probably one of his more well-known stories. It's highly disturbing, and involves graphic scenes of elementary school children committing suicide, being eaten alive by flesh devouring aliens and performing surgery on one another. It's pretty common in a lot of anime/manga, even in modern stuff, for the characters to be drawn in a style resembling Umezu's when reacting to something horrific, usually as a gag.

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	127. Grim grinning ghosts, part 2

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been**** So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #127: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 2

* * *

><p>"Y-you don't have to do this for me, really, Ange!"<p>

"It's fine."

"B-but…"

"I said _it__'__s __fine_."

The tone in Ange's voice was icy. It was impossible to argue with. Maybe, if Asmodeus had been more like Mammon, she would have tried, but Asmodeus wasn't. She was the youngest sister, the most 'incompetent', so she didn't have a right to speak back to Ange like that.

She merely nodded, fingers folding together, and looked down at her lap.

Ange and Asmodeus were seated side by side on an old, beat-up bus that would apparently take them to the small town near the famed 'haunted house'. At that point in time, Ange was less afraid of the idea of ghosts and zombies, and more concerned about how safe the bus they were on actually was. Everything about it screamed 'I'm a death trap on wheels!', from the dirty windows smeared with layers of dead insects (very tasteful), to the worn seats with shredded upholstery and burn marks from cigarettes, to the way the vehicle made constant spluttering, wheezing sounds like an asthmatic running a marathon.

How were buses like that even allowed to run anymore? It was a mystery. Perhaps an even greater mystery than how Beelzebub's gravity-defying hair was able to stay in place, even when it rained.

Ange clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and folded her arms, staring stonily at the scenery as it sped by. Er… make that 'hobbled' or 'limped' by, given how slow the bus was.

Through the charming make-shift curtains of dead flies, Ange could make out tall, skinny trees and not much else. They were fairly foreboding; especially as it was already beginning to get dark.

Being in the countryside was a little strange in itself, regardless of how 'creepy' the skeletal silhouettes of the trees were. Ange had spent the vast majority of her life in the city surrounded by buildings, cars and other people. The countryside could not be more dissimilar from her usual surroundings if it tried.

In fact, the setting beyond the bus window reminded Ange of the forests on Rokkenjima. She could remember playing in them with Maria when they were both very, very young, looking for fairies in hollow trees and trying to lure them out of their hiding places with bread and honey.

How long ago had that been, anyway? Ten years? Eleven?

It felt like a century; almost an entire lifetime.

The forests on Rokkenjima, although vast and expansive- taking up at least 80% of the island- had never been scary to Ange; not even as a child. Kumasawa had told her stories about some evil witch that lurked amongst the evergreens, but when Maria and Ange had played together they'd never strayed too far off the path, and they'd never once gotten lost.

The forests Ange could see at that moment, however, seemed just a touch more foreboding. They didn't have any happy childhood memories attached to make them less sinister. They looked cold, dank and utterly miserable.

Even so, Ange wasn't scared. She was far too mature and reasonable to feel any fright over fantasy creatures, like ghosts. Plus, she had to play at being the big sister role model for Asmodeus. She didn't want to display any signs of fear; it would only upset the youngest stake even more than she was already.

Ange's eyes narrowed slightly, lips pursing.

Mammon really _had_ gone too far with her teasing. Ange didn't mind when the seven sisters had little disputes or the like; it was only to be expected- they were _sisters_. Most of their arguments were petty squabbles, rarely fuelled with any real spite or malice, either. It was all fairly light-hearted, and even when they fell out they would make up again just as quickly.

Mammon's teasing of Asmodeus earlier that day had been something else altogether, though. It hadn't even been 'teasing' at all; it had been flat out bullying.

Ange couldn't abide bullies.

She'd had to deal with her fair share of them at St. Lucia's. The memories of her nightmarish sojourn at school still lingered with her, even though she had long since escaped that horrible place. Those cruel girls, with their judgemental comments and low whispers, had taken significant dents out of Ange's self-confidence and sense of worth. It taken her a long, long time to reclaim those bits of her personality those girls had taken.

As such, Ange couldn't simply stand there and let Mammon make fun of Asmodeus. She _couldn__'__t_.

It reminded her only too much of the all the times _she__'__d_been bullied.

Going to the stupid 'haunted house' with Asmodeus might have been the most sensible thing to do. Leaving the six sisters of purgatory at home by themselves was an accident waiting to happen. Also, Ange really had far, far better things to be doing with her time than organize camping trips like this. Even so, Ange felt obliged to help Asmodeus, as a big sister figure and a friend.

She would _not _let Asmodeus be hurt by Mammon.

She _refused_ to let anybody feel as weak or worthless as she once had.

Ange was still a little worried about how the sisters would fare without her help, but Lucifer and Belphegor were both responsible. They were under strict orders not to let Beelzebub into the kitchen, or let Mammon taunt Satan to the point where Satan tried to turn her into the Kuchisake-onna with a carving knife, so everything should be fine.

…It would, hopefully, be fine.

And Ange was going to have a very stern conversation with Mammon when she got home.

Ange had already lectured Mammon before she departed for the bus station with Asmodeus in tow. The conversation was short but effective, and went a little like this;

"Mammon, if you _dare_ show up at that 'haunted house' and try to scare Asmodeus, you will be very, _very_sorry indeed."

"E-eep… Y-yes, Miss Ange!"

Ange was sure Mammon would listen to her. The stake of greed could be cruel at times, but she would never ignore a direct order from Ange, or betray her trust. Mammon wasn't just Ange's 'furniture', after all. They were meant to be friends, too.

Ange continued to stare at the eerie scene of endless trees before her, running a hand through her hair in a distracted manner. The cheap, plastic twin ties her big brother had given her clinked together slightly; jostled by the jerky movements of the bus.

Battler had always been a strong, responsible big bro to her when she was a child. Even when he hadn't been living with Rudolf he attended every single one of her birthday parties, and he would bake cookies with her, or carry her when her legs got tired, or help do up her shoelaces, all the while with a soft smile on his face.

Ange had to be just as kind as her big brother.

She had to make him proud.

And she would cheer Asmodeus up as well.

She would never let one of her friends cry.

Not after they had done so much for her.

* * *

><p>It was ten o'clock in the evening when our two intrepid explorers arrived on the doorstep of the so-called 'haunted house'. As it was late October (the 30th, to be exact), the sky was already pitch black. It looked like a huge, all-encompassing ink stain had blotted out the once-blue sky. The darkness was made all the more prominent given there were no street lamps for miles around. That kind of artificial light had been left behind in the city, along with the continuing bustle of normal, everyday life.<p>

Even though Ange was trying to be the mature, responsible one, something about being in a forest far away from the rest of civilization made her feel on edge. The only lights she and Asmodeus had left to guide them was from the baleful full moon and a flashlight, but neither was very reassuring. It was a cloudy night, and the moon was constantly being hidden from sight. The flashlight, meanwhile, only offered a paltry orange glow.

At least the batteries in Ange's pocket were a slight comfort. It wasn't like the flashlight would run out of power any time soon, and if it did they had backup batteries. At least they wouldn't run the risk of being stranded in complete darkness.

The lack of light was probably why Asmodeus was clinging so tightly to Ange's side, just like a little limpet. However, Asmodeus wasn't the only thing weighing Ange down. The sleeping bag slung round her shoulder was beginning to feel incredibly heavy; almost as heavy as a concrete block. It rooted her feet into the ground, making it difficult to move.

Or…

Ange shuddered.

Maybe that deadweight wasn't the sleeping bag after all. Maybe it was fear.

A cold wind tugged at Ange's clothes insistently, just like a small child who was desperate to get her attention; 'I just want to play…!' But this small child's body had been cut into pieces, leaving only the hands and mouth behind.

Hands that kept tugging at Ange's hair.

A mouth that kept howling in despair.

The trees shivered. They trembled alongside Ange and Asmodeus as if they were also cold and frightened. What little leaves that still remained on those spindly, bare branches rustled in the wake of the wind.

A mixture of dirt, moss and crinkled brown, yellow and red leaves shifted underfoot as Ange took a few uncertain steps forwards. The rustling, almost scratching sound was enough to draw Ange's mind back to the ghost stories she'd heard as a child- like those of the murderous demon, Teke Teke…

N-no…

She was being childish.

There was nothing haunted about that stupid house; nothing at all.

No… Ange wasn't afraid of ghosts.

Ange was afraid of people. Humans were far, far more terrifying than ghosts; mainly because they _did_ exist. Horror movies starring humans as the main culprits were always the scariest.

In movies like that, it was always the foolish young teenager out in the woods by herself who got killed, too… Usually in a myriad of nasty ways.

Well.

Ange had something none of those poor female victims ever did in cheap slasher flicks. It may not have looked like it, but the quivering, pigtail'd mass of scared young girl holding her arm was actually a real demon from hell; a proud stake of purgatory. Having Asmodeus by her side was like carrying a razorblade in her pocket- but this particular weapon could actually engage in interesting conversation and was a rather sweet girl to boot.

Asmodeus' presence was even more soothing than the extra batteries.

Ange squared her shoulders, setting a look of determination on her face.

She'd be fine.

All she had to do was prove to Asmodeus ghosts didn't exist, and then the youngest stake's confidence would be restored and she would no longer be scared.

It was simple.

Or, at least, it _would_have been, was Ange not feeling a few vague prickles of paranoia washing over her, too.

"Come on, Asmodeus we're not going to get anything done standing out here. Let's go inside."

"W-what? I-in… inside…?"

Asmodeus cast a nervous glance at the house before her; and, really she had every right to look terrified. The 'haunted house' was Western in style, and embodied absolutely every horror cliché imaginable, from the broken windows to the overgrown front garden, to the peeling paint of the front door and the dislodged tiles on the roof. Factor in all the skeletal, stooped over trees, the whistling wind and the melancholy full moon waxing and waning under the covering of cloud, and the whole scene looked about as warm and friendly as a charnel house.

"Of course we're going inside," Ange replied, unsure of why she was whispering. "I don't particularly want to sleep outside in the cold. Do you?"

"U-um, n-no… I, I…" Asmodeus looked down at the floor, flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry for holding you back, Ange…"

"You're not holding me back. I'm not angry with you; not at all. It's only natural to find things like this frightening, but there's nothing to worry about." Ange attempted what she thought was a friendly smile. "Ghosts definitely don't exist, alright?"

"R-right… Yes, of course!"

Asmodeus' voice was a little too squeaky to be entirely convincing, but it sounded like Ange's words had offered her some comfort. She raised her head, eyes narrowed with resolve, but…

"E-eep! Ange, Ange!"

Ange was very nearly bowled over backwards at the force of Asmodeus tackling her side in a motion too violent to be called a real hug. Luckily, Ange was able to keep her footing- but the flashlight fell from her grip and hit the floor with a dull _thunk_.

The light gutted out almost immediately.

Plunged into a sudden darkness, lit only by the milky tendrils of light from the moon, Asmodeus' obvious fright only increased. If her grip on Ange had been strong before, it was bone-crushing now. All the while, Asmodeus' heartbeat seemed to knock against her ribcage, and her breathing came out in short, jagged bursts.

It was more out of instinct than anything else that Ange wrapped her arms round Asmodeus' shaking body, trying to steady the young stake so she didn't collapse. However, it was out of compassion that she didn't let go.

Ange hugged Asmodeus almost as tightly as the stake hugged her.

"Asmodeus? Asmodeus, what's wrong?" asked Ange, struggling to keep her voice neutral. Betraying even the slightest flicker of fear would only make Asmodeus panic more- just like adding fuel to a fire.

"I-I saw something!" Asmodeus said tearfully, voice indistinct. "Something moving in the window… I-I swear, I saw it… A-and now the light's gone out, and we're in the dark, a-and… a-and it's all my fault! I-I really am useless…"

"Shh, it'll be okay; shhh. I'm here with you, alright? I won't let anything bad happen."

"A-ange…"

"You're scared, so maybe you're just seeing things. I know you have an active imagination, always writing those stories." Ange smiled; though the expression was quite lost of Asmodeus as Ange's head was resting atop of hers'; not to mention how dark everything was (just in case that fact hasn't been hammered home quite enough yet). "Calm down, okay?"

Asmodeus continued to sniffle softly, not entirely sure of Ange's reasoning. However, the feeling of Ange's arms wrapped around her managed to soothe her frayed nerves.

If Ange was with her, then… she'd be okay.

Ange wouldn't let anything hurt her.

"R-right…" Asmodeus said, voice trembling almost as badly as she was. "There's nothing to be scared of… Nothing…"

It was with a faint sense of trepidation that Asmodeus finally extracted herself from Ange's arms. When she was by Ange's side, she truly felt as though she was safe, but when Ange wasn't hugging her the air was too cold, the sighs of the wind too melancholy, and everything felt all dark and scary and cramped again, like the trees were trying to press in on her and swallow her whole. It was alright, though.

She would be strong.

She would be strong for Ange.

Ange bent down and picked up the flashlight. She clicked it on and off a couple of times, willing the familiar circle of orange light to blink back into life- but, nothing.

Angrily, Ange took the useless flashlight and bashed it against a tree trunk a couple of times. That was the standard fix-all for any electrical problem, right? You hit it a bunch of times?

Doing that always worked in movies…

Real life, however, was a different matter.

Still nothing.

"A-ange…?"

"Oh, damn it to hell."

In a burst of violent rage, Ange smashed the flashlight against the tree branch with a lot more force than her previous attempts. She half-expected the flashlight to buckle and break; becoming a truly useless, twisted piece of trash.

However, that didn't happen.

Instead... slowly, guttering and flickering like the tremulous flame of a candle…

The light came back on.

Ange heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

Maybe the movies had it right sometimes, after all.

But that didn't mean the typical horror movie clichés had to come true as well, did it…?

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<strong>

_Kuchisake-onna_: A figure from Japanese mythology who has a slit mouth. She walks around asking people if she's pretty. If they say no she stabs them to death. If they say yes she slits their mouths so they can look just as beautiful as she does. Her name literally means 'slit mouthed woman'. My favorite bit about this legend is that she can be defeated if, when she asks if you think she's pretty, you respond neutrally, or ask her in return if she thinks _you__'__re_ pretty XD She'll get confused and the victim can run away XD Japan has all the best horror stories XD~

_Teke __Teke: _A figure from Japanese urban legends. The ghost of a young woman who fell onto a railway line and was cut in half by a train. She came back from the dead as a vengeful spirit, but only has her upper torso and has to drag herself around by her arms. The noise she makes when dragging herself around sounds like _teke__ teke_; a scratching or rustling noise. If she encounters anyone at night and the victim is too slow she will slice them in half.


	128. Grim grinning ghosts, part 3

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #128: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 3

* * *

><p>Asmodeus shifted restlessly inside the too-warm cocoon of her sleeping bag. Wrapped up in the warmth like that, she felt a bit like a writhing insect; a helpless maggot. Ange was pressed up against her side, taking up half the room.<p>

Ange had decided taking more than one sleeping bag on their expedition would've resulted in far too much stuff to carry. Ange had the flashlight and the sleeping bag, and Asmodeus had been holding onto their pillows and pajamas, so neither were able to carry much more.

Incidentally, if you're at all curious, Asmodeus was attired in a dainty white nightgown with so many pointless frills it could have come straight from Victorian England, whereas Ange was dressed in a more modern camisole and shorts. This knowledge is, of course, useful for setting the scene and nothing more.

But I digress.

Secretly, Asmodeus was glad they only had one sleeping bag, because the thought of being isolated in layers of synthetic filler by herself didn't really sit well with her. At least, with Ange by her side, she didn't feel so alone.

Unfortunately, sleeping bags weren't typically made for two people- and this one certainly wasn't. It was uncomfortably hot, and Asmodeus found herself pressed up against Ange in the most distracting of manners. It was probably very inappropriate, furniture cuddling up against their masters like that. Ronove would certainly _never_ do that to Beatrice.

…Maybe that had less to do with professional, though, and more to do with the fact Beato's butler only seemed to have a very mild, passing interest about women.

Asmodeus shifted slightly in the sleeping bag, trying to push herself into a position where she wasn't pressed against Ange so much. However, it was impossible. There was simply not enough room, and unless Asmodeus reverted to her stake form the problem would not be solved. However, Asmodeus had second thoughts about doing that, given a) it was rather claustrophobic compressing her body down into such a tiny amount of matter for so long and b) she didn't want to accidentally stab Ange whilst she was asleep.

Eventually, Asmodeus' restless, nocturnal shiftings ceased. If she woke up Ange, or hurt her by accidentally smacking her in the face with her arm, she didn't imagine Ange would be too happy.

Asmodeus stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed. She tried to count sheep. It didn't work. Then, she tried to count sheep getting impaled by stakes. That didn't work, either.

The young stake sighed.

It was just too much for her. The atmosphere was too thick with tension; it was too warm in the sleeping bag but too cold outside; her hands felt constricted at her sides, and Ange was simultaneously too close, and not close enough.

Every time the wind whistled through the trees outside, Asmodeus flinched.

To take her mind off… well, _everything_, the young girl began to play fantasies through her head like scenes from a movie. It was a reoccurring daydream she'd been having for some time, and was comprised of pastel colors and flowers just like something from a shojo manga. Riding on a noble white steed, her Prince Charming would whisk her off her feet and into his arms, from a miserable life of poverty to the greatest luxuries and happiness imaginable.

The dream was sweet enough to, finally, take the edge of Asmodeus' fears. Slowly, she felt her breathing even out and her eyelids flickered shut. The small, silly smile of a young girl who didn't truly understand the darker side of love, even though she represented lust, spread across her lips.

Save for the continuous rustling of the trees and the wailing of the wind outside, everything was quiet.

All was calm.

And then…

_Crunch, crunch, crunch…_

It was a soft sound at first, barely audible, and Asmodeus tried to ignore it as best she could. It was fall, after all, so it was probably the sound of leaves as they disengaged themselves from the tree branches outside, hitting the ground below.

It was surprising just how loud a single leaf could be as it fell from a tree, hitting every other branch during its descent to the earth.

But the sound grew louder…

_Crunch…_

And louder…

_Crunch…_

And louder…

_**Crunch, crunch, crunch…**_

Just like footsteps of an unknown stranger who was circling the house… … and wanted to come inside.

Asmodeus felt her blood freeze solid in her veins. Her pleasant dreams of happily ever afters dispersed in a matter of nanoseconds. Her prince wasn't there; she was all by herself, and she was going to get eaten by a ghost! A ghost with _footsteps_, no less!

Except, no…

Asmodeus' whole body tensed as she heard a soft sigh from beside her. At first, Asmodeus was sure that noise came from a hideous monster which had somehow slunk into the sleeping bag with her without her knowledge. Of course, it wasn't that at all.

She was just being silly.

It was Ange.

Ange was strong and confident and brave, and she always stood up for Asmodeus when Mammon teased her. Ange might have been a girl, but she was just as- if not, more- powerful than any other man Asmodeus had ever met.

Ange… could be her prince.

Ange could protect her.

"Hey… Ange…" Asmodeus whispered, shaking her friend's shoulders gently. "Ange, wake up…"

Ange made a small, muffled 'nghhh…' at that, and merely turned over, hair falling across her face. Some of it managed to get into Asmodeus' mouth.

Yummy.

Pulling a face of equal parts of annoyance and fear, Asmodeus spat Ange's hair out and resumed her attempts to awake the human girl. She shook her even harder this time; fingers digging the juncture where Ange's neck met her shoulders with just enough strength to leave little half-moon marks behind in Ange's skin from her long fingernails.

"Ange! Ange, wake up!"

Now, that managed to get Ange's attention, even if Asmodeus' previous actions hadn't.

With a yawn, Ange slowly opened her eyes, in a manner similar to a mechanical doll. Asmodeus was half seized with a childish fear that there would be no pupils when Ange's eyes fully opened; that they would be a vast expanse of milky white instead. However, that was not the case. When Ange, fumbling about on the floor beside her, found the flashlight and clicked it on, the pool of comforting light made it quite clear Ange was still 100% herself, un-possessed by any demons or witches.

She looked a little sleepy, though. The bags under her eyes were more noticeable than ever. Asmodeus felt a little guilty about waking her up.

"Asmo, what's wrong?" asked Ange, a touch sharply.

"I… I-I heard a noise…"

"What sort of noise?"

"Like… I don't know, a crunching sound… like footsteps. First it was quiet, b-but then it got louder and louder, and…" But Asmodeus' narrative, which had been so forcefully calm at first, eventually descended into a terrified panic, until she could no longer finish her story.

"Well, I don't hear anything," said Ange, after a small pause. "It must have been the wind, or maybe an animal wandering around outside, like a rabbit or a badger."

Ange had actually been thinking of foxes, but she thought talking about small, cute and fluffy animals would calm Asmodeus down more.

"A rabbit…? I think, maybe, that… would make sense…" Asmodeus said, her voice barely a whisper. "T-thank you, Ange."

"It's alright."

And, so saying, Ange clicked the flashlight off- and plunged the room into darkness.

That was when the noises began to start again.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Again, it sounded like footsteps- but they weren't crossing a carpet made of dead leaves this time. Instead, they were reverberating on wooden floorboards… and they sounded a lot closer than last time.

"A-ange…!"

But Ange had already heard. She didn't need to be prompted. Within a matter of seconds, of awkward fumbling in the dark and that continued _thump,__ thump, __thump_ (it might have been the sound of Asmodeus' heartbeat, or something a lot more sinister), Ange had picked up her trusty flashlight once more, and hit the on button.

Nothing happened.

She hit the switch again.

Nothing.

Still, the sounds from outside continued- as if they were _from__ behind __the __door_- but the room was still filled with darkness, and the light still refused to work.

Asmodeus squeaked and clung onto Ange tightly from behind, pressing against her in alarm. Meanwhile, Ange's teeth gritted together in irritation as she smashed the stupid piece of technology against the floor. She could hear Asmodeus' labored breathing in her ear, feel the young stake's fingers pressing against her in alarm, and she knew Asmodeus was relying on her, just as she was relying on that stupid, _stupid, __stupid _flashlight to actually live up to its name…

_Thud_

-and produce-

_Thud_

-some actual-

_**Thud**_

-light!

And it was, with that final, more violent blow, that the flashlight made an odd sound…

And then…

Miraculously…

It began to work once more.

Ange didn't even have enough time to be happy. Hurriedly, she directed the beam of light towards the door- and was, for the first time, struck with a real sensation of terror.

The door…

It was wide open.

They hadn't left the door open before they went to sleep, Ange was of it. So… how had that happened?

And that wasn't all.

Ange swore, as she squinted into the small, illuminated area of bright orange, that she could see something. A shadowy figure disappearing down the corridor.

Luckily, Asmodeus hadn't seen this. If she had, she would only have panicked. Her face was pressed against Ange's back, her arms wrapped tightly about her middle, and she was blind to the world.

But, strangely enough, the shadow was having an adverse affect of panic on Ange.

How many ghosts had shadows, anyway…?

And how many ghosts had footsteps?

Slowly, the pieces began to line up in Ange's mind.

Then, she glared.

_Mammon._


	129. Grim grinning ghosts, part 4

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #129: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 4

* * *

><p>"Hey, Asmo," said Ange, as she gently disentangled the snare of Asmodeus' arms from around her middle, "I'm going to go and investigate, okay?"<p>

Asmodeus' eyes widened in terror. "Why would you want to do that? W-why can't we just stay here…?"

"Because I think I might know who the 'ghost' is."

"I-is it a rabbit…?"

"Not unless rabbits can open doors."

Asmodeus gave a small, frightened squeak that was somewhat reminiscent of a rabbit in itself. Of course, the Chiester sisters would have said otherwise.

"You can stay here if you want to, if you think looking around we be too scary. I promise you'll be safe."

But the idea of staying in the dark by herself was about as appealing to Asmodeus as gouging out her own innards with a spoon.

"I-I want to go with you! I have to…!"

If she on her own, then what would stop the ghosts and monsters from devouring her?

* * *

><p>The investigation of the house proved to be fruitless. Everything was normal- or, indeed, as 'normal' as an old, tumbledown house in the middle of the forest could be.<p>

Ange found herself wondering who would be bizarre enough to construct such a beautiful mansion in the middle of a forest, annexed away from the rest of society. Then, she thought of her own grandfather's own once proud house on Rokkenjima (now a smoking crater in the ground), and sighed.

As long as there were eccentric people in the world, there would always be incomprehensible mysteries surrounding them.

As Ange soon discovered the old house would easily have been as beautiful as her memories of the mansion on Rokkenjima, if it hadn't been subjected to years upon years of neglect. Dark green ivy had coiled about the bricks, pushing several out of place and even seeping inside the house itself. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls in great strips, revealing the crumbling plaster underneath. The floorboards creaked ominously underfoot.

Most objects of any worth had long since been pilfered from the house by thieving hands, so Ange and Asmodeus were not privy to the beautiful portraits that had lined the walls, nor the exquisite dolls in the upstairs nursery or the solid silver cutlery and willow-patterned plates that had filled the drawers and cupboards of the kitchen.

However, the larger objects that were impossible to shift had been left behind, though, as a testament to the wealth which had once been pumped in the mansion. There were the four poster beds upstairs; the large, ornate dolls' house devoid of inhabitants or furniture in the nursery and, in a show of riches so great it was almost obscene, there was the antique chandelier with six tiers of unlit candles that hung almost eerily over the dining room. Some of the glass prisms had been smashed, maybe by bored teenagers throwing rocks, but the ones that remained were breath-taking. When the light of the moon seeped through the open window and touched the chandelier the whole room was instantly filled with multiple rainbows; hovering amongst the dust like the gossamer wings of so many fairies.

During their investigation, Asmodeus almost forgot to be scared. She and Ange pushed open many doors and looked at many rooms, but they saw no traces of the grim or ghostly in any of them. From the library, whose shelves were still filled with a jumbled mess of books (disturbed, no doubt, by profane fingers searching for any rare volumes of real worth), to the nursery upstairs, which still contained the hollowed out carcass of the dolls' house and a glum-looking rocking horse, everything was amazing to the young stake.

You must remember, Ange had known about the existence of such extravagant houses from her frequent visits to Rokkenjima as a child, and was not overly surprised by the grandeur around her.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, had spent much of her life in the white void of the meta world, and she found everything incredible. Looking through the abandoned house, she could almost believe she was a real lady looking around a palace. Asmodeus stared at her surroundings with the wide eyes of a child. This awe was enough to stifle her fear, though her terror had not evaporated completely. With every creaking footstep that echoed through the empty house she felt her heart palpitate slightly. That was nothing compared to the scare she'd received in the kitchen, though. There had been a horrible scuffling sound of frenzied movement- and the moment it assaulted her ears Asmodeus had squeaked, fingers gripping Ange's arm so tightly she was in danger of snapping it in two. A quick search of the floor via flashlight had quickly discovered the source of that noise.

Rats.

Lots of them.

The two girls never encountered anything even vaguely akin to monsters or ghosts, though. The suspense was there, but nothing happened. In a way, it felt like watching a very long, drawn out jump scare in a horror movie. In the end, the build up took far too long, so the eventual reveal just wasn't frightening anymore.

Within time, Asmodeus slowly began to calm down.

When Ange was by her side, she had nothing to feel afraid of.

There was only one door Ange and Asmodeus came across that they could not open. It appeared to be jammed by something, and the orange circle made by the single flashlight wasn't able to determine what, exactly had stuck the door so. Eventually, Ange decided it was unimportant- and Asmodeus, though she felt some lingering doubts about that one unexplored room, soon forgot about it.

After thoroughly scouring every other inch of the mansion, Ange decided to call it a night. If the perpetrator really was Mammon, as she so strongly suspected, the stake could have easily vanished in a burst of golden butterflies the moment she heard Ange and Asmodeus following them. Trying to catch a demon or a witch who didn't want to be caught was just like chasing after shadows on the sidewalk.

Ange's exhaustion had finally overcome her irritation, and she no longer had enough energy to keep exploring. She'd been having sleepless nights lately. Maybe trauma over that whole encounter with her _lovely_Aunt Kasumi had turned her into a real insomniac. In any case, Ange's whole body felt leaden, from the tip of her head to her toes, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

However, given that this is a 'horror story' (of sorts), the general rule here is nobody is able to sleep soundly through the night, _ever_. Otherwise, nothing interesting would happen. All good horror stories take place in the dark, right?

As such, you probably won't be as surprised as Ange and Asmodeus were when they discovered what had happened to the room they were staying in.

Ange's eyes narrowed.

Meanwhile, Asmodeus became so pale she looked just like a sheet of paper. If this were a Victorian novel, she would have fainted. Luckily, she was able to remain upright- but only by clinging helplessly onto Ange's side.

At that point, Ange didn't feel like a big sister so much as she felt like a walking stick.

"A-ange…! W-what… w-what is this…?"

Their sleeping bag and pillows had been thrown across the room- but, no, not just thrown; they had been crumpled and crushed, and one of the pillows had even been slit down the middle, as if by something with sharp claws… …

Or a sharp object.

Maybe even a sacrificial _stake_.

Ange's whole body tensed with anger, just like a loaded spring. Surely Mammon would never have done something so cruel; not her friend- but, sadly enough, Ange knew how petty and childish Mammon could be. Sometimes what she had intended as jokes went too far. She had no sense of self-control; just a malicious young child who liked to pull the wings of insects.

It would have been easy for Mammon to materialize in their bedroom whilst they were looking through the mansion and throw their things around. Although Ange didn't want to believe it, it sounded like the sort of thing she would do.

Or, did it…? Would Mammon do that?

Ange did trust her, after all. Maybe she was trying too hard to force the evidence to fit a suspect- just like trying to jam two pieces of ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle together.

Shaking her head, Ange tried to push her concerns to one side.

It had to be Mammon.

No animal was intelligent enough to engineer a scenario like this, and no rabbit would have been able to slice open a pillow. As ghosts didn't exist- Ange adamantly _refused_to accept such a ridiculous thing!- that left only one culprit.

It was Mammon, wasn't it?

There was no other culprit Ange would accept.

"W-what if it was a ghost?" Asmodeus squeaked, looking up at Ange with tear-filled eyes. "W-what if it was a real ghost…?"

"And what would a ghost gain from throwing our stuff around? Slicing a few pillows seems like a very odd reason to rise from the grave."

"B-but who else could have done it…?"

"I'll give you a hint," said Ange, shining the flashlight around their room. "Her name starts with a 'Mam' and ends with an 'mon'."

Asmodeus eyes widened slightly at this. "Y-you don't think…? B-but, I know big sis can be a bit mean sometimes, but she would never-"

But Asmodeus never finished her sentence.

She didn't finish it because, once again, they heard the sound. No, not just 'the sound' _that_sound.

_Thud, thud, thud._

The sound of footsteps.


	130. Grim grinning ghosts, part 5

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #130: Grim grinning ghosts, part 5

* * *

><p>"W-what was that… …?"<p>

Asmodeus' voice was barely more than a whisper. Perhaps she was so scared she'd momentarily forgotten how to speak- or maybe she was afraid she would be overheard by some horrible creature that wasn't entirely human. Most likely, it was a combination of both.

Her eyes, almost as wide as the eyes belonging to the dogs from _the __Tinderbox_, shifted restlessly about in their sockets. Asmodeus looked at her surroundings with distrust and fear, from the peeling wallpaper emblazoned with light pink cabbage roses to the worm-eaten floorboards underneath her feet. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but her heart was still thumping.

After all, it wasn't always the things you _could_ see that you should fear.

It was the things you couldn't.

Wasn't that why she, as a sister of purgatory, so often chose to remain invisible whilst chasing her victims? Hearing noises, yet seeing nothing to attribute them to, was always a good way of disorienting people. When they were confused, it made them easier to attack. Asmodeus had always felt a little guilty about using such under-handed techniques, but now she felt like a monster. When you were a predator it was easy to forget, or just plain ignore, just how frightened your actions were making your prey.

Now, Asmodeus herself felt like a creature that was being hunted; a small fly in the web of a spider, though she could not quite see the loathsome insect which had entangled her.

Inside her head, Asmodeus prayed fervently that, if she escaped from this nightmarish scenario alive, she would never, ever, make another human being feel this helpless ever again. She would dispatch them simply, with a single slice through the neck. Playing with people's emotions like this was just _cruel_.

"Come on, Asmo… Asmo?"

Asmodeus had been so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice Ange was calling her name. It wasn't until she felt the sensation of fingers tugging gently at her hair that she snapped out of her reverie.

"Asmodeus, let's go," said Ange. For whatever reason, her voice was equally soft as Asmodeus', even though she kept telling herself over and over again she wasn't afraid. "We need to find Mammon."

"A-are you sure it's Mammon…?"

"I'm sure. Don't worry- ghosts aren't real."

"Maybe… maybe you shouldn't say that… …"

"Why not?"

Asmodeus' voice was little more than a whisper; swallowed up by the sounds of the wind howling outside. "Because _I_always get upset when people say demons don't exist… But they do. I do. And I'm right here… …"

There was no denying that. The feeling of Asmodeus pressed against Ange's body was impossible to ignore.

"Well, I won't believe in ghosts until I've seen them with my own eyes," said Ange- though her determination faltered just a little. "_Your_ existence doesn't necessarily prove the existence of other monsters- they're not related at all. And, as we both know Mammon exists, and is very childish, I would say the chances of the perpetrator being her are greater than the chances of it being a ghost."

Asmodeus tried to quash down her fright with logic, just as Ange was doing. What she said made sense, and Asmodeus didn't want to further embarrass herself by acting like a child. She was behaving exactly how Mammon said she would. Didn't she come to the haunted house to prove she could be strong and brave, regardless of whether she was the youngest? If Mammon was the real culprit, then she must have been laughing at her right now.

Lucifer was too prideful to be scared of enemies she couldn't see. Satan would have declared all out war amongst those who attempted to frighten her. Beelzebub probably would have laughed. All of her older sisters (with the possible exception of Leviathan) would have been fine in such a situation.

Asmodeus had to prove she was just was strong as they were.

She couldn't drag Ange down.

She couldn't afford to act so shamefully.

Asmodeus nodded her head… and let go of Ange's arm.

"Alright, Ange!~" Asmodeus said, forcing her voice to sparkle with its usual cute charm. "Let's go!~"

Things were only scary if you let them be, after all.

* * *

><p>Asmodeus noticed, with a sickening feeling kindling in the pit of her stomach, that her and Ange's footfalls seemed even louder and more ominous than before. The floorboards groaned in protest after each step they took, until it felt like the whole house was one living entity whimpering in pain underneath their feet.<p>

The wind had been whistling constantly through the trees outside, but now those light gusts of wind had transformed into a real storm. Asmodeus could hear the boughs of the tall, skinny trees moan as they were pushed about by the shrieking wind. It sounded like it was raining, too.

When Ange shone the flashlight through the dusty, cobweb strewn corridors of the mansion, Asmodeus saw that what little glass remained fixed to the windows were streaked with water. The wind manipulated the drops of rain with skilled fingers, pushing it through the open maw of the gaping windows and onto the damp, already half-rotten and wet floorboards below.

Not even the grandeur of the house offered Asmodeus any comfort this time. Everything was sinister, from the motes of dust hanging in the air to the rancid smell of mildew and dry rot that assaulted her nose. Asmodeus' spine crawled, as though thousands of millipedes were writhing underneath her nightdress, scuttling up and down her skin with their hundreds of twitchy little legs.

Ange, too, had begun to experience a slow, sickening kind of dread in the pit of her stomach. She swore she could hear words, real human speech, being whispered on the air, although the sound of constant rainfall pitter-pattering on the windowpanes and the floor masked what the voice was saying. She thought, too, she could feel fingers pressing against the back of her neck, making her shiver from tip to toe as though she had been drenched in icy water. However, when she turned about, there was nobody else there. There was only a vast expanse of empty corridor. It twisted away into the darkness where the flashlight would no longer penetrate.

Maybe there was somebody following them.

Maybe not.

If there was, Ange wouldn't have been able to see them if they kept their distance.

Ange's grip on the flashlight became shaky, tremulous, so the circle of ethereal orange light shook drunkenly to and fro.

At one point, our red-headed heroine felt a hand grab hold of her arm, and she almost shrieked- but that fear melted away when she saw it was only Asmodeus.

Asmodeus was pale, trembling like a small flower in a violent gale- just as the real small flowers, being choked by straggly weeds and stinging nettles outside, were being roughly jostled around.

"Ange… Look… …"

She was pointing towards to a door- but it wasn't just any door; oh no. It was the same door which had, during their first search of the mansion, been impossible to open. Now, it was standing ajar, as though it had never been closed to begin with. It was almost as though their previous attempts to pull it to had been a hazy, half-constructed fantasy.

But the door didn't lead onto another room.

Everything behind it was black as pitch, black as tar, black as coals, and black as any other object in this universe which can adequately be described as 'very black'. Yes; for those of you who haven't quite grasped the concept, it really was quite dark.

That open door led to outside.

It led to the back garden of the mansion.

When the sombre full moon, which had hitherto been obscured by cloud, slowly took its place once more in the night sky, it cast a ghostly light over the garden. However, this was a definite case where ignorance really was bliss. What moon revealed was less than comforting to our two heroines.

The garden, which seemed to stretch on forever, was an overgrown mess of thorn bushes and brambles, just like those that surrounded the castle in _Sleeping__Beauty_. The grass, which had been allowed to grow unchecked for much too long, coiled up from the earth like long fingers; fingers that quivered when disturbed by the air. The trees were hunched over like little old men, with heavy roots that curled up from under the ground to cause the more unobservant to stumble.

An unseen owl hooted in the branches of a tree.

The sounds of the rain mixed with the howling of the wind.

But that wasn't all.

There was a sight so strange, so out-of-place, and so disturbing that it would even have inspired somebody like Satan into a strange kind of scared silence.

There were tombstones everywhere.

Yes- like any good gothic story, a cemetery is involved. Are you really that surprised?

Most of the tombstones were covered in overgrown tangles moss and lichen, almost as if nature was hell-bent on dragging the heavy stone markers down into the earth. Some had fallen over. Others were broken. The inscriptions on all were completely illegible from a good century, perhaps two, of abandonment. This would surely annoy the inhabitants of the graves, who had- despite the best efforts of the one who laid their bodies to rest- been completely forgotten. If nobody could read the text on a tombstone, what was the point in them existing at all?

If tombstones couldn't identify who, exactly, lay underneath the earth, then… how could one be sure these dead people had ever even been truly alive?

Indeed, being a corpse cast aside in an unmarked grave is a sad fate.

Ange and Asmodeus would never know that the people buried underneath them were from a once-great family (though they probably could have guessed given how magnificent their house had once surely been).

Ange and Asmodeus would never know that the two young girls who had played with that gutted out doll house in the nursery were lying underneath the dirt, or that the numerous servants who set the grand dining table with those willow patterned plates had been reduced to crude formations of bones masquerading as humans, or that the lady of the house had been a fair Western woman called Lenore and she would be 'dearly missed' by her husband, as her grave had once stated but did no more.

They would never know this because it was impossible to read the text emblazoned on the tomb stones, and they did not even think to try.

However, I know this, and you know this too, so hopefully you can offer those decomposed, worm-eaten creatures the sympathy they have wished fervently for during the past two centuries.

Being dead isn't very fun. Being dead and being forgotten is torture.

Our two main characters were now feeling distinctly out of place. It was almost as if they were actors who had signed on to take part in a light-hearted comedy, but they had somehow stumbled onto the set of a horror movie by mistake.

And, if this was a horror movie, the climax of the tale would surely take place here.

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<strong>

_The__ Tinderbox: _A lesser known European fairytale that involves three dogs. The first dog has eyes the size of teacups, the second eyes the size of mill wheels, and the third the size of round towers, apparently. Pretty big eyes for such small dogs XD

_Lenore_: Her name is totally not a reference to Edgar Allen Poe's poem _The__Raven_, not at all XD


	131. Grim grinning ghosts, part 6

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #131: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 6

* * *

><p>Asmodeus tried very hard to resist her urge to cling onto Ange's arm as they walked through the cemetery. Every time the wind ghosted across her neck, danced through her pigtails, or made her white nightdress flutter about her exposed legs, she felt a painful shudder seize hold of her body. She wanted nothing more than to bury her head in Ange's side, wrap her arms round her middle and lose herself in the other girl's comforting presence. However, Asmodeus had sworn she would live up to her name as a sister of purgatory and be strong, so she tried to ignore her fear. She clenched her fists together, and forced herself to remain calm...<p>

"E-eek! A-ange, did you hear that?"

"It was just the wind, Asmo."

"B-but it sounded like a cat… W-what if it was a neko-mata?"

"It won't be a neko-mata, because they don't exist."

"O-oh yeah… Ehehehe…"

Well.

Asmodeus was calm-_ish_.

Sort of.

The two girls continued to walk, Ange's grip on the flashlight was so tight her knuckles turned white.

As they both soon discovered, flimsy nightdresses and lace camisoles weren't meant to be subjected to torrential rain or whistling winds. Their clothes were completely soaked. Ange's shirt and shorts were stuck to her as intimately as the unshed skin of a snake. Meanwhile, Asmodeus- if she had been able to register something other that fright- would have been embarrassed to note that her flimsy white dress did not mix very well with water.

Ange's bangs were plastered to her forehead, getting in the way of her eyes. Asmodeus' twin tails, that were usually so cute and bouncy, were sodden, stuck together, and ratty. Droplets of water sluiced down their skin; dripping down foreheads, noses, shoulders, in a way that made both girls tremble.

The cold wind wasn't helping matters, either. Ange was beginning to think they'd die of hypothermia long before they encountered any supernatural ghouls draped with white sheets. Ange was frozen to her core, and she was beginning to feel like a yuki-onna from Japanese myths. She wondered if she would feel glacial to touch, too.

To further compound the problems of our brave explorers, neither of them were wearing any shoes. They had forgotten to put them on before going outside. This was not a problem for Asmodeus, who could easily circumvent this minor discomfort by hovering alongside Ange so her feet did not touch the floor. Unfortunately, Ange was very much a human and could not hover, so her feet had to suffer the indignities of being sullied by dirt and scratched by stinging nettles. Ange even stubbed her toe on a tree root, which hurt something chronic. However, looking on the bright side, at the least the momentary pain helped divert her from dwelling over much on how cold or how wet or very uncomfortable she was.

Damn it.

She was going to _kill_ Mammon when she found her; actually tear her limb from limb. Ange didn't think of herself as being particularly cruel, but she _had_been raised by an ogre like Eva, so maybe she had some latent talents dwelling within her when it came to making people suffer.

Maybe Eva's genes would come in useful for once.

Ange tried to cheer herself with thoughts of throttling the stake of greed- hopefully whilst she was wearing nice, warm clothes, in a room with a fireplace in it. However…

"O-ow! Damn, damn, _damn__…"_

Fantasizing was not a good idea whilst walking around barefoot.

That was proven when Ange managed to put her foot directly in a gorse bush. It was understandable tripping over tree roots and stepping in nettles because they were difficult to see in the dark, but a whole bush?

She really should have been paying attention.

"A-ange! Ange, are you alright?"

Ange grimaced, rubbing the underside of her poor, abused foot. Through gritted teeth she managed to hiss, "Oh, I'm just _fine_."

Ange's lack of sleep, coupled with her worry for Asmodeus, the cold and the pain in her foot, was making her rather more short tempered and cynical than usual. She had even managed to dispel her fears, for the short term.

It was funny how extremes of emotion- in this case, anger- could override others- in this case, fear. You should try it next time. If you ever feel like exploring a cemetery at night, make sure you do it in inappropriate clothes, with no shoes, after going a week without sleep, in the cold and in the rain. Then see whether these circumstances add to your sense of fright, or make you so bad tempered and uncomfortable the thought of encountering animated corpses is actually somewhat charming because you want something to take the brunt of your rage out on.

If there is no cemetery in your immediate area, you'll just have to take my word for it. If you live in a state of perpetual rage, you won't have enough room in your head to ever feel fear again.

It's surprisingly effective.

There might be too many negatives to this plan (e.g. becoming rather unlikable, scaring other humans away, having no friends) for it to be viable, though. That was something Satan was all too aware of.

The girls continued to walk (or, in Asmodeus' case, hover… And in Ange's, hobble) along, using the flashlight to guide them. It was a cloudy night, and the ethereal spectre of the moon had once more been hidden by a thick bank of cloud, further adding to the dismal, foreboding atmosphere.

The only sounds Ange could hear were the constant pitter-patter of the rain and the whoosh of the wind. Nothing sounded nor looked out of the ordinary.

It was like any other perfectly normal, privately owned cemetery by a rich, reclusive family who had all died under mysterious circumstances.

As stated before, Ange didn't find dead people all that scary. Living ones were much, much worse, as her Aunt Kasumi had only too kindly demonstrated, before she herself became an amicable, harmless corpse. Thus, the mere idea of being in a graveyard itself wasn't all that terrifying to her.

All she wanted to do was go back inside and get some sleep.

And then…

"E-eep…! A-ange…? Did you hear that?"

Yes, Ange had heard it- and, unlike the last time, it couldn't have been hand waved as the wind quite as easily.

It sounded like crying.

No…

It didn't just sound like crying.

It _was_ crying.

Ange turned about, pointing her flashlight at the area the noise was coming from. The circle of light flickered like a will o' the wisp, but it only illuminated a crumbled grave covered with years' worth of leaf mold. There was nobody there.

"Mammon…" Ange called, "this isn't funny!"

But the crying didn't stop. If anything, the series of melancholic, heart-broken sobs became louder; drifting in a discordant harmony against the backdrop of falling rain and howling wind.

Ange swallowed heavily.

Now, she was beginning to doubt whether the perpetrator was Mammon at all. She'd had her doubts from the beginning. Mammon was Ange's first friend, and even though the stake could be cruel and childish at times, Ange knew she wasn't outright evil. She didn't think she would ever go that far just for a simple prank, even despite her competitive streak and desire to win.

Even so, Ange did not want to falter, and she didn't want to scare Asmodeus further. Ange was the mature, responsible big sister; she couldn't afford to doubt herself or be scared.

There was nothing to be scared about.

The living were scarier than the dead, and the dead- as a general rule- remained so. They didn't simply get up from their graves and wander around; it was ridiculous!

There was just no way that could happen! Ange would not accept it.

Just as her big brother had so steadfastly denied witches, Ange would now deny ghosts with equal fervor. Who knew- if she got really into it, she might start pointing dramatically as well.

"_Mammon_! Mammon, it's not funny anymore! Show yourself!"

Ange jerked the flashlight around, searching around the immediate area to find the source of the crying. She didn't expect to find anything.

And that was where she was wrong.

If she hadn't found anything, there wouldn't be an exciting ending to this story, now, would there?

That was when the circle of light suddenly fell upon a hunched figure. A figure neither Ange nor Asmodeus had seen before.

It looked like a woman. Her hair was in ringlets, crammed under an antiquated bonnet, and she was attired in a long, ornate dress which would not have looked entirely out of place on a witch. On closer inspection, though, it became obvious the bottom of that pretty dress had been dragged through the dirt, and the fabric was tattered and torn around the sleeves and hem. It was a dress that had seen better days and, much like the house, bore the vestiges of great beauty, which had long since withered away like decayed flowers.

No witch would have been seen dead in an outfit like that.

The woman had her back to Ange and Asmodeus so they couldn't see her face. They could only judge her by her outdated clothes.

She certainly didn't look like Mammon.

For one thing, Mammon's hair wasn't blonde.

The mysterious woman was kneeling by the same tombstone covered in a thick, heavy mask of lichen Ange had pointed the flashlight at before. The first time Ange had directed her flashlight at that grave there hadn't been anybody there.

Where had she come from?

Who was she?

And, more importantly… what… was she… …?

"A-ange…" Asmodeus said, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "A-ange, I, I… W-who is she…?"

"Shh. I don't know," Ange said. She tried to force her voice to sound comforting, but it was strained even to her own ears. Her big sister façade was slowly beginning to flake away.

"A-ange, where are you going…?"

"Don't worry, I'm just going to take a look."

"N-no, don't…!"

Asmodeus' fingers reached out, grabbing hold of Ange's arm. The young stake then pulled Ange into a tight hug, wet from their rain-drenched clothes, wrapping her arms tightly round Ange's middle.

"A-asmo…?"

"Ange, don't go," Asmodeus said, her voice still little more than a broken whisper. "W-what if it's a real ghost? She wasn't there before- I know she wasn't, and… and… I-I don't want you to get hurt… I-I'm scared…!"

Ange blushed as the full force of Asmodeus' compassion washed over her. Even now, living a peaceful life with all her friends, she was still unused to being cared about by other people. It was an alien sensation- and yet, it still managed to warm her heart.

All of a sudden, the pain in her feet and the icy water sluicing down her skin seemed worth it, if only she could experience tender moments like this.

"I'll be fine," Ange said confidently, voice brimful with determination. "Don't worry about me, alright?"

"O-okay… I'll trust you. But, if you're going to investigate- then I will, too." Asmodeus was obviously petrified- but, even so, a small, awkward smile managed to bloom on her lips. "I-I'm a stake of purgatory, right? I was hoping you would protect me, but I was wrong… _**I**_ need to defend you."

Ange's blush turned even redder. Her cheeks were warm- and perhaps they had even thawed out the coldness of the rest of her body, because all of a sudden she didn't feel so stiff anymore.

Ange swallowed.

Then, slowly… she began to speak.

"Alright. Let's go together. On the count of three."

Asmodeus nodded her head, straggly pigtails bouncing in a rather maudlin, dismal manner.

Together, they began to count.

"One…"

Ange steadied her flashlight.

"Two…"

Asmodeus' poor, icy fingers- numb and almost blue- found Ange's free hand, linking them together tightly.

"Three…"

They turned to look at one another.

"Let's go."

Together, Ange and Asmodeus slowly walked forwards. They approached the woman from behind, with delicate steps that betrayed their fright. However, neither would run away.

They had come too far for that.

Within moments, the two girls were only inches away from the huddled, sobbing figure.

Asmodeus' mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton wool. She could hardly speak. Her head was filled with the sound of the rain falling around her, the howling wind, and her own labored heartbeat.

Even so, she still mustered up the courage to say, voice tremulous, "E-excuse, Miss…? Are you alright…?"

It was the direct question that finally made the sobbing figure turn around. She moved slowly, and she seemed to creak, as though her bones were bumping against one another with no cartilage between them to soften the impact. She ground and creaked like an old door being swung open, and the sound- what a horrible sound!- was enough to make Ange and Asmodeus flinch.

But the painful noise was only an entrée to the horror of the main course that was yet to be served.

The noise was nothing compared to her face.

Her face.

Her _face_…

Surely no human who still had a beating heart and blood pumping through their veins could have had a face like that.

Her eyes…

Well, to put it bluntly, the plural no longer applied. She only had one eye. The other had been gouged out; an empty black socket, a hole, in the pale snow that was her white face. She was pale as death. Her skin seemed far too thin; spread tightly across her angular nose and high, proud cheeks as though it were in danger of breaking apart. The delicate blue veins could be seen criss-crossing against the underside of her arms, almost as if they were trying to burst out of her skin in torrents of blood- though she was so very white it was doubtful whether she had any blood at all. It seemed more realistic to believe the blood in her veins had, instead, turned into dust.

But it was the woman's mouth that was the most horrifying sight to behold.

Her lower jaw was hanging limply from side of her mouth, for the other side had been ripped apart. It created a hideous parody of an insane half-smile; a fixed, crazed grin that must have been carved by something very sharp, like a breadknife. The long cut on the right side of face, from mouth to cheekbone, fell open in folds of torn flesh, exposing raw, grey gums and ivory teeth. It was almost as if somebody had tried to give her a pretty new smile, but had grown bored and given up when only half the hideous grin was finished.

Maybe that was why she only had one eye, too.

It was… pointless vandalism, really; just like spraying graffiti on a wall or dropping litter on the street. There was no reason for whoever killed this woman to mutilate her like that after her death, but they had done it anyway.

Or, at least… they had started, and then lost interest.

The moment they stopped carving a new smile into her cheek was probably when they realized there were other members of that rich family- the two little girls and the servants- they could be cutting up, too.

No human could have survived with such hideous, disfiguring wounds.

It wasn't possible.

And, by that simple conclusion… … that woman wasn't a human.

Ange and Asmodeus stared in a dumb, wide-eyed horror, as the pitiful figure before them swayed drunkenly to and fro. Her mouth opened and closed, and folds and torn flesh on her right cheek flapped loosely with each movement. It looked as though she was trying to say something, but her words were lost. If Ange and Asmodeus had stayed longer, perhaps they would have heard her crying.

Crying for her two daughters.

Maybe that was why the poor, pitiable spectre was reaching out for Ange and Asmodeus with her long skinny hands. After they, they did look an awful lot like them…

Her two pretty, dear, darling daughters.

But her daughters were dead.

And so was she.

Ange and Asmodeus never learnt about any of that. They never knew.

They did not know because they ran away.

I'm sure you would have done the same.

The love of a grieving mother runs deep, after all- even after that mother has died. And who knows… If Lenore (for that was her name, after all) had discovered that the two girls staying in her house were not her daughters, what would that bereaved woman have done?

People do strange things after they've suffered from heartbreak and disappointment.

They do even stranger things after they've been suffering for two hundred years.

In the end, it was probably a good thing Ange and Asmodeus didn't stay long enough to find out what, exactly, those strange things were…

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<strong>

_Neko-mata:_A monster from Japanese folklore. It looks like a cat, only it has a forked tail. It can shape shift, and is meant to be able to animate corpses by jumping over them.

_Yuki-onna:_Another figure from Japanese folklore. Her name means 'snow woman.' There are a bunch of different stories about her, but I think the most common perception of her is that she's a beautiful spirit of a woman who died in a blizzard. She either rescues humans from blizzards or deliberately leads into blizzards so they die of exposure, depending on the story.


	132. Grim grinning ghosts, part 7

**Being**** Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #132: Grim grinning ghosts, Part 7

* * *

><p>The following morning found Ange and Asmodeus seated at the dining table in Ange's house, both pale as sheets and trembling. Neither of them had changed from their nightwear, nor had they had a shower, brushed their teeth, combed their hair, or in any other way attempted to make themselves look suitable for the company of other humans.<p>

They couldn't have brushed their teeth anyway, because their toothbrushes were in that small bag back in the old mansion, along with that sleeping bag and the dropped flashlight.

It wasn't like they were going to go back and retrieve any of those things, though.

Their skin was pasty and white. The deep purple bags under their eyes provided a striking, almost artistic, contrast against their ivory skin. They were ugly marks, just like bruises, but there was a certain kind of strange beauty about them, if one focused hard enough, and maybe crossed their eyes a little. Then again, that's what has to be done with all modern art nowadays, just to make it even vaguely presentable.

Their hair looked dishevelled, as did their clothes. One of Asmodeus' pigtails had come undone and her blonde hair curled about her shoulders on one side; made wavy because of the constant rainfall from earlier. It looked damp, as though it still hadn't dried. Meanwhile, there were stray twigs and leaves that had caught in Ange's red hair, and her feet was stained with dirt and mud which had been padded across the hallway of her house.

Both of the girls looked as though they had been dragged through a hedge backwards by the hair- which was quite funny, really, because the truth was even more bizarre.

Instead, they'd been running away in the dark through a forest, barefoot, after coming face-to-face with a ghost.

Neither of them could remember too much about their ordeal. Ange knew she had dropped the flashlight at some point, and the pair of them had been blundering around in the dark for quite a while. She had stumbled over a tree root- or maybe it was her own feet- and had fallen on the floor, skimming her knee and taking off a layer of skin. That was probably why there was a trail of blood running down her leg- and why her palms, like her feet, were also stained with dirt.

It probably would have been best not to ask our 'brave' heroines what, exactly, had befallen them the day before. They couldn't remember. How had they got from the secluded woods to Ange's house without any method of transportation?

It was a mystery. Trauma does odd things to the mind.

You're free to imagine your own solutions to the problem.

It must have been about half past six in the morning. The sun was slowly beginning to rise outside the window, casting a warm, orange glow through the dining room. The sunlight should have been a comfort, yet it reminded Ange forcefully of the artificial spot of light that had guided them throughout most of yesterday. She couldn't suppress a shiver- and once she had started, she couldn't stop.

None of the other stakes were awake yet, leaving Ange and Asmodeus to their own devices- their own devices were, quite simply, 'sitting together being terrified'.

At least, they had assumed none of the other stakes were awake yet. However…

"Oh, good morning, Miss Ange, Asmo. I didn't expect you'd be back so soon."

Slowly, tremulously, Ange and Asmodeus turned around.

Then, they screamed in terror.

There, stood in the doorway, nonchalant as anything, was a tall, spectral figure. She wore a long white dress that shifted about her knees, and her feet were bare. Her long, damp, black hair fell in front of her face, cutting across all that pale skin in dark, spidery lines. Most of her face was obscured by her hair, and what little was visible was enough to make her heart convulse from terror. The single large, red-rimmed eye that was visible was blood red. That crimson eye was perhaps where the entirety of the blood in the bedraggled girl had gone, because the rest of her was white as a lily.

To further add to the 'creepy' effect of the ghost, she was holding a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and there were crumbs about her mouth.

Ange didn't have the gall to shout at the stupid ghost for breaking into her house and helping itself to toast, as she would have done on any other occasion. The encounter she had experienced in the cemetery last night (or, rather, very, _very_early that morning) was still ingrained firmly in her mind, and had shaken her nerves somewhat.

Ange never wanted to see another ghost ever again.

Asmodeus agreed with that thought wholeheartedly.

That was why, in a burst of screaming suitable for a cheesy monster movie, both bedraggled girls got to their feet so quickly they knocked over their chairs- and ran right out of the dining room.

Ange and Asmodeus were later discovered by Belphegor, both trembling under the covers of Ange's bed, arms wrapped tightly around one another for dear life.

Meanwhile, Lucifer- for that, indeed, was who the ghostly apparition was- could only blink in surprise, the toast held tightly in her hands.

Being shouted at like that wasn't working wonders on her pride or self esteem.

"…Do I really look that terrifying first thing in the morning?"

"I don't think they were shouting because of you. Maybe they saw a real ghost!" said Mammon cheerfully, sidling up to Lucifer and snatching her toast whilst the oldest stake was preoccupied.

"Hn?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, ghost? What did you do?"

"Nothing at all. You're accusing me, woman? How could you!" Mammon cried in mock hurt, through a mouthful of toast. Mm~ Breakfast always tasted better when it was stolen. "I was watchin' that horror movie marathon with Beelze and Levia all last night whilst making our Halloween costumes, you know?"

"I do vaguely remember that, yes…"

"Oh, by the way, I like your outfit a lot, Luci," said Mammon, dusting her fingers free of toast crumbs and giving her sister a thumbs up. "You look _exactly_ like Okiku from _Okiku__ and __the __Nine __Plates_! I bet anybody who's been in a well for years and years would look exactly like you do!"

And, so saying, Mammon walked off, pondering just how much fun trick-or-treating would be that night.

Meanwhile, Lucifer tugged at her hair worriedly.

"Yes, I was going to be Okiku, but this isn't my outfit; this is _me_after I've just woken up and had a shower…"

Then, Lucifer paused.

"And where has my toast gone?"

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<br>**

_Okiku__ and __the __Nine __Plates:_ A Japanese folk tale. A young servant called Okiku is constantly flirted with by her master, but she ignores his affections. He does what any level-headed man would do in such a situation and throws her into a well, leaving her to die. The character of Sadoko in _The__ Ring _is based on Okiku.

Oh, and the title of this story itself is a reference to that song from _the __Haunted __Mansion__… _XD~

* * *

><p><strong>an:** So, yeah. That's the end. It's a little different to what I usually write, as I already said, so I'm a little worried about how well it turned out. However, I think it's good to challenge myself like this once in a while and write something new. The only real 'horrific' things I've written before is gore, so it was difficult trying to actually create an atmosphere without any blood being splattered everywhere XD

Also, using a character like Asmodeus as the lead was tricky because she's not a very well developed character in canon… So I was worried using her for too long would be boring. I hope it wasn't :

Um, lets see. This fic was requested by _Fan__ of __Games_, and they wanted it to be set in an abandoned asylum, but as I have never been to an asylum and I'm not sure how many of them there are in Japan, I decided to do a haunted house setting instead. My own grandparents own a really big Victorian house, with like 15 bedrooms (well maybe not XD) and a lot of forest-y garden, so I thought it would be easier writing a setting I'm actually somewhat familiar with. And I didn't write everything in the request exactly to the letter, but apart from the slight setting change I think it's quite similar? I hope it's okay I deviated from the request somewhat ^_^;;

Anyway…  
>Happy Halloween ^_^;;<p>

**~renahhchen ****xoxoxo**


	133. Silence is golden

**Being**** Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #133: Silence is golden

* * *

><p>"Mommy, mommy, guess what I learnt in school!"<p>

"Not now, Jessica," said Natsuhi sharply, tugging her long skirts free of her young daughter's grip. "I'm very busy at the moment."

Jessica frowned. "But mommy, it's really, really interesting!"

"Can't you tell me later, Jessica? The dining room is a mess and the rest of the family will be arriving in a few hours for the conference!"

"A mess…?"

Natsuhi's idea of a 'mess' was very, very different to Jessica's. Granted, Jessica didn't really have much of a concept of 'mess' being only four year old and rather untidy, but it was safe to say Natsuhi was more obsessed with cleanliness than even a normal adult. If tidiness was akin to godliness, then Natsuhi must have been the reincarnation of Hera.

No matter what Natsuhi said, the dining room was absolutely spotless. To use an age old cliché, you could have eaten your dinner clean off the floor. Doing that probably would have been healthier than eating on a plate at a restaurant. Every single smooth surface in that room shone. Even the air itself seemed to be completely devoid of dust.

Not for the first time, Jessica found herself wondering whether her mother lived on a different planet to everybody else. Maybe she needed her eyes testing? Jessica didn't dare bring that concern up, though. The last (and first) time she'd mentioned it Natsuhi had snapped at her and told her not to be 'facetious'… whatever that meant.

"Yes, Jessica, it's a _mess_. The dining room is disgusting- absolutely disgusting. What have the maids been _doing_?" Natsuhi bit her lower lip, eyes narrowing. "They'll have to clean it again; I simply can't leave it in this state. It would put the Ushiromiya name to shame."

Wincing, Natsuhi pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to stave off a headache.

"But mommy…"

"Not _now_, Jessica! Leave me alone, please."

"M-mommy-"

"I said **leave**."

Jessica's lower lip trembled slightly. Her podgy, four-year-old fingers, short and stubby with baby fat, clenched into fists. She sniffed.

Then, she turned about on her heels, and ran away.

Natsuhi only sighed as she watched her daughter leave, lips pinched together as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. It was just like her clumsy, unrefined daughter to tramp muddy footprints about the house. She hadn't even taken her shoes off. Jessica may have had a Western name, but that didn't mean she could run wild and abandon the necessary Japanese traits in women, such as being sensible, mature, considerate and clean.

Jessica was such a selfish daughter. Didn't she think of anybody but herself?


	134. Level up love!

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #134: Level up love!

* * *

><p>"So, if we were characters in a dating sim, what generic roles would all get assigned?"<p>

"Um, I don't know… That's a really, really tricky question!" said Asmodeus, in a strangely serious voice.

And why was Mammon asking this question to Asmodeus, of all people? The answer was simple. Asmodeus was the resident dating sim expert, given her love for… well, _love_.

Asmodeus' romantic dreams had encouraged her to seek out adorable games based on the concept- and humans really had invented some intriguing ways of passing the time. Asmodeus thought games were far more exciting than books. Even though most of those games were meant for boys Asmodeus enjoyed them all the same, although some of the more adult-rated scenes made her blush. Despite being the stake of lust, she always clicked her way through those scenes pretty quickly. It was a little similar to Belphegor's very industrious attitude despite being the stake of sloth; Asmodeus was still rather pure when it came to the idea of love. What Asmodeus really liked about dating sims were the adorable 'getting to know you' scenes in the games, when the male characters took their dates to aquariums and stuff.

Asmodeus never played those games imagining herself as the boy who dated the girls. Instead, she liked to put herself in the shoes of the female characters, and always said things to the female characters which she herself would like to hear from a guy one day.

Although some of those games might have been pretty risqué, Asmodeus played through them with a childish kind of innocence. That was why Ange had bought her a few of those games to begin with. They made her happy, and when Asmodeus was happy, it was quite difficult even for the most miserable of people to be upset.

"Come on, you've played a whole bunch of those games by now," said Mammon, prodding Asmodeus in the side. "I'm interested. What sort of character would I be?"

"Let's see…"

Asmodeus placed her fingers under her chin in thought. The thoughtful look on her face would've been improved by about 50% if she'd had the foresight to steal a pair of Belphegor's glasses, but she hadn't, and that was a pity.

After a few moments, Asmodeus' eyes lit up with a sudden idea.

"Ah, I know! Mammon, you're good at talking to people, and you're always cheerful, so maybe you'd be the childhood friend type character! The one who has no problem interacting with guys and always teases them… Yeah! I think that would suit you!"

"So I'm a friendly girl? Ooh, I like it! I think that could work!" said Mammon enthusiastically. "And I guess you would be a cute, innocent maiden who really wants a perfect boyfriend…. Fufufu~" Mammon giggled deviously. "I think, given your obsession with falling in love, your character path would be really _easy_to complete."

"And what about our other sisters?" asked Asmodeus. She was cheerfully oblivious to Mammon's subtle teasing- or maybe she wasn't, but she'd chosen to ignore it for the sake of having an easy life. "I think Lucifer would be the big sister type character who always lectures you to do your homework and take things more seriously… I think trying to get a happy ending with her would be exhausting!"

"Hehe, sounds like Luci~ She'd be all 'what, you're trying to flirt with me? You're not doing it properly! N-no, I'm actually not interested in you… I-I'm not happy; what gave you that idea?'"

Asmodeus giggled.

"Mm, so that's Luci… And Belphe would be the shy, bookworm type character who hangs out in the library. She might be the most difficult option of all- one wrong word and her feelings for you would go through the floor." Asmodeus pulled a face. "With characters like that, you need to be really careful of what you say, or they won't trust you anymore."

"And Satan would _have_ to be a scary yandere girl, right? One wrong word and she'll slice your neck open with a pair of scissors!"

"Yes, I think Satan would be like that, hehe… Beelze would be a cheerful, energetic girl, and you'd get closer to her by making her food. There'd definitely be a scene where you eat lunch with her on the school roof!"

"That sounds just like Beelze. Fufufu… and they always say you buy the affection of _guys_ through their stomachs, not girls." Mammon grinned. "Ah, so… I think that's everybody, right?"

"Yeah." Asmodeus nodded. "That sounds like everyone. Except, um… what about Leviathan?"

There was a small pause.

Asmodeus and Mammon looked at one another.

Then, Mammon shrugged.

"I can't think of any special traits for her at all. She's kind of boring. Maybe she could be the default option if you can't trigger flags with any of the other girls?"

At that moment Leviathan, who had been walking past Asmodeus' room, froze.

Then, her eyes began to fill- ever so predictably- with tears.

W-why did she have to be a default?

* * *

><p><strong>an:** So, yes, in regards in requests, I will do the sickness arc as well… because I was sick just a few days ago so I should make some other characters suffer XD

I'd like to thank Fan of games for their requests and stuff, and I'm glad you like these stories ^_^; I actually do paranoid about the quality of my writing a lot, and I've had writers block for the past week on a lot of stories, and I just hate how everything I write sounds, even these really short oneshots. So I've been a bit mehh about stuff lately. Encouragement does help ^_^; Thank you :3

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	135. Playing with dolls

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been**** So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #135: Playing with dolls

* * *

><p>"Where is it…? I'm sure I left it around here somewhere… I-if I don't find it mama will be so mad… …"<p>

That small, childish voice drifted forlornly out from underneath the magnificent four-poster bed.

Ushiromiya Jessica, five tender years of ages, was on her hands and knees in a manner most unbefitting of an Ushiromiya, getting her clothes all dusty and covered with mothballs. Natsuhi would surely have been angry to see her daughter crawling around on the floor- but it was for Natsuhi's sake Jessica had degraded herself so much to begin with.

You see, Jessica had lost her doll. It wasn't just any doll, however. Jessica hadn't even liked it. She thought it was creepy, with its unblinking blue eyes, pouty lips and blonde curls. She supposed its ornate Victorian outfit, with a tiny crinoline and lots of ruffles, was beautiful, but Jessica was only five and couldn't appreciate the art in such things. Jessica was a girl who preferred climbing trees and getting dirty to playing with dolls. Besides, Jessica had always been too afraid to even touch the doll. She knew she was a clumsy girl (her mother frequently scolded her for it), and she was sure she would only break that doll if she touched it.

So she never played with it.

Why, then, was Jessica so distraught that she had lost it?

It was because it had been a present from her mother. Natsuhi rarely gave Jessica toys, so Jessica cherished that doll dearly, even if she didn't like it. Natsuhi would be angry if she found out it had gone- especially when she had bought the doll in the hopes Jessica would abandon her love of making mud pies with Battler and become a real lady interested in nice, indoors activities like cooking, sewing and… yes, of course, playing with dolls.

Of course, Jessica did not know the ulterior motive behind her mother buying her that present, but she _did_understand anger, and she did not want her mother to be angry with her.

Jessica searched and searched and searched, looking through each and every inch of her bedroom over and over again, but it made no difference. No matter what she did, she couldn't find the doll.

Her lower lip began to tremble.

W-what would her mother say…?

She would be so disappointed… a-and then maybe she wouldn't buy her presents anymore- and then, when she stopped buying her presents, it would show she had stopped loving her…

Being a child, Jessica associated receiving presents with receiving love- though maybe Natsuhi's strict parenting had something to do with this. For a girl who so rarely received smiles, words of encouragement or even hugs, the only thing Jessica had left to assure herself her mother loved her was presents.

Now, she didn't even have those.

"I-I'm sorry, mama… I-I'm sorry… …"

Sobbing to herself softly, Jessica crawled into a corner of her room and began to cry. As she cried, she apologized. Even when her tears rendered her words indistinct, she still apologized. She was apologizing to a mother who could not hear her, and who would not have accepted the apology even if she could, but that didn't matter to Jessica. She continued to cry and cry and cry. She could have cried a whole lake of tears, just like Alice in Wonderland

And, like Alice in Wonderland… something truly wondrous was going to happen to her.

Golden butterflies began to flit through the room; shimmering like liquid gold as the sunlight from the open window sparkled across their gossamer wings. Jessica could not see these butterflies because she was too busy wiping away her tears. However, those butterflies did not remain butterflies for long. Slowly, they began to take shape…

And when they had stopped twisting around in a frenzied dance, there were no longer any butterflies alighting upon Jessica's bedroom.

Instead, there was a person.

Jessica did not see the transformation process… but she _did_gasp in shock, as she felt a hand lightly pat her head.

That hand was not her mother's hand. Jessica knew that without even opening her eyes. Natsuhi was never so kind to her.

A servant, then…?

Sniffing, still wiping her eyes, Jessica looked up with wide, blue eyes…

"A-ah… …!"

...to see the most beautiful woman she had ever met.

The woman stood before her looked just like the doll she couldn't find. She had the exact same blonde curls, spiralling from her scalp in a manner that couldn't be possible for normal humans. Her eyes were vivid blue, too, and seemed to be mocking her subtly- though they were filled with concern all the same. She wore an outfit comprised solely of red, with lots of lace and ribbon… and there were even little ribbons on her heeled shoes.

Jessica marvelled at those red shoes. They made her think of the Wizard of Oz instantly. With red heels like that, you'd always be able to find your way home.

Jessica wasn't sure why, but she instantly trusted the pretty blonde woman. After all, she was a child who hadn't received many hugs or affectionate touches, so her heart was completely won over by this motherly figure who ruffled her hair so lightly.

"My, my," the woman cooed softly, "this is no good. A pretty child like you shouldn't be crying. Aaah… it seems there are lots of miserable children around here, though. Maybe it's an epidemic? Fufufu~"

Jessica didn't understand the humor so she didn't answer.

The woman's eyes softened slightly, and she tipped her head to one side; looking at Jessica with motherly warmth.

"What's wrong?"

"W-well, I… I… I-I was looking for a doll my mama gave me, and I can't find it, a-and now… N-now she'll be a-angry with me…"

The woman frowned, tapping a finger tipped with a long, red nail against her lower lip. Then, her expression brightened, as though she had just realized something.

"Did your doll look something like this?"

Jessica's eyes widened to such extremes they nearly fell out of her skull. She was right to be surprised, too. I'm sure you would have been as well. There, sitting in the pretty woman's hands, as though it had been there all along, was…

"M-my doll!"

"Oh? So this is yours? I just happened to find it lying around so I picked it up. I like collecting pretty things, and this doll's hair was just like mine… I couldn't resist! But your hair is a lot, lot prettier, so I think you deserve to have this back."

Jessica's face flushed with gratitude and thanks as she accepted the doll from the woman. She was so surprised and so grateful over this act of kindness the words were all stuck in her throat. It is a strange phenomenon that, when one desperately wants to speak, they are unable to find any of the right words.

The woman didn't seem to mind, though. Instead, she laughed, ruffling Jessica's hair again.

"You're very welcome~ Just don't leave precious things lying around, alright? If I don't know they're yours, I might be tempted to take them again… So let's hope you've learnt a lesson! If you become more responsible with your belongings, I'm sure your mother would be very proud of you."

"T-thank you…" said Jessica softly, hugging the doll to her chest. The doll was cold and hard, and it dug into her stomach with its fiddly fingers and tiny feet, but it was safe and her mother wouldn't be angry and that was all that mattered to Jessica. "T-thank you…! Y-you really think, if I was more carefuller… Mama would like me more?"

"I'm sure she likes you already. Sometimes, parents act distant because they don't want their children to get too reliant on them. Aaah, it's very difficult to understand! Sometimes parents themselves might not understand why they act so cruelly! I'll sure you'll get it when you get older, though. I'm sure your mother is only thinking of you." A small smile. "And I'll think of you too. So don't be sad.

"Even the witch of Rokkenjima, Beatrice… wants you to be happy."

And, so saying, the witch of Rokkenjima vanished.

Jessica never saw her again.

* * *

><p>Gaap smiled happily to herself as she sipped tea under the arbour, watching as Jessica played around outside with the young maid, Yasu. Gaap was invisible to both of them, as she felt no need to intrude upon young children's fun.<p>

At least, not at the moment.

Ha…

Maybe, after being isolated on Rokkenjima for so long, she was beginning to get soft. Whatever would Virgilia say to that? Would Lia be proud of her, for blossoming into such a motherly figure?

…Nah.

No way.

Gaap giggled softly, drinking her tea, which wasn't quite as good as Ronove's, but nothing ever was.

The fact still remained that _she_ was the one who had stolen the doll in the first place.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Actually, this has a few spoilers for ep7 of the visual novel… XD; But not many. I just want to assume, given lots of characters appear in this collection after ep4, that most people have read those anyway.  
>I like Gaap a lot. I think, outside of just being annoying, she could be a nice motherly figure, too ^_^;;<p> 


	136. For want of a cake

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #136: For want of a cake

* * *

><p>Gohda Toshiro was not in a very good mood.<p>

He wasn't even in a bad mood, either.

He was _furious_.

He had been the head chef in a five star hotel up until a few weeks ago, commanding absolute respect from everybody else in the kitchen, from the underlings who took orders to the old women who swept the floors. The world had been his oyster. He had been on top, everybody else at the bottom, and if the hierarchy in the hotel had been a food chain he was the shark and everybody else were teeny-tiny fish not even worth his attention.

Life had been good.

Life had been more than good- it had been _sublime._

And then he began to work for the Ushiromiya family.

That was when the problems started.

The servants of the Ushiromiya family had a very strange hierarchy, and it wasn't based on ability either. Genji, Kinzo's ever-faithful, silent second shadow, was at the top of the food chain now, with the young servants from the Fukuin house underneath him. Any servant allowed to wear the one winged eagle crest had more credibility than Gohda even if they were far inferior to him in age and experience. Gohda had been hired by Natsuhi and Krauss, so he wasn't trusted by Kinzo, and Gohda knew there was little chance he would ever be accepted.

Those young, wide-eyed little maids who chattered together noisily like birds on a wire, forgetting their keys and cutting corners when they cleaned, would always, always, _always_be held in more esteem than him.

Gohda would be lying if he said that didn't enrage him.

He tried to hide his annoyance behind a mask of fake smiles and polite gestures but the rage was still there, bubbling beneath the surface. Gohda knew he was a more polished servant than any of the girls from Fukuin House, yet he also knew he would never be able to surpass them. This left him feeling wronged, and it damaged his pride considerably.

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

There was also _her_.

She was a very young maid, only about sixteen years old, who had started work for the Ushiromiyas about a year before Gohda arrived. She had very blonde hair tied in two gravity-defying twin drills, a love for gossip that surpassed even Kumasawa's, a tendency to slack off whenever she could… and she was absolutely determined to make Gohda's life as miserable as possible.

Her name was Berune, and Gohda hated her.

The little maid insisted on following him around everywhere, an eerie grin on her face the whole while, as she gave him a running commentary on each and every room they passed in the corridors. She rattled off rules to Gohda nineteen to the dozen, her voice never stopping; a continuous deluge of _noise_ that began to buzz around in his head like bees.

Everywhere he went she followed.

She was trying to annoy him- and it was working.

It was working only too well.

H-how dare an insolent child like her lecture him, the great chef Gohda, about how to do his job? He'd been a servant long before she had even been _born_, so where did all her airs and graces come from? Was she happy that, being one of the youngest maids, she now had somebody she could assert some kind of authority over? Was she proud because she, despite her obnoxious mannerisms and lazy attitude, was permitted to wear the one winged eagle on her clothes and Gohda never would be? Or was she just trying to make him snap?

Well, she succeeded in that, alright.

It happened about three weeks after Gohda had joined the ranks of the Ushiromiya family's servants. He had been preparing a meal in the kitchen when _she _sauntered in holding a bunch of folded linen to her chest. The moment she saw him, she dropped the linen (that would need to be cleaned again) and skipped over merrily, peering over his shoulder.

"Ooh~ That smells gooood," she cooed appreciatively, hands behind her back, on her tiptoes. "But if I was you, I think I would've chopped the carrots just a little finer, you know?"

That was simply the last straw.

Berune could lecture him about where all the rooms were in the mansion, what each key in the key box did and what the servants' rota was, but she _couldn__'__t_ start talking to him about food. Food was Gohda's forte, and a little brat like her wasn't going to give him advice; not on that, not over his cold, dead body, even if she did have that damned ugly eagle design on her clothes!

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Gohda had turned around in a fit of rage. He was holding a ladle in his hand.

…Come to think of it, he probably looked quite intimidating.

Gohda was a lot, lot taller than Berune. The blonde girl was short even for sixteen, with a skinny stature despite the large amounts of food she snuck from the kitchen each night. Gohda knew he could have snapped her annoying little neck like a twig…

Not with the ladle though, of course. That wasn't really designed for neck-snapping.

N-not that he'd snap her neck anyway! Murder wouldn't look very good on his CV.

But that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it.

"Look, **you**," Gohda spat nastily, brandishing the ladle in Berune's face, "you might think you're more important than me because you've been here a year longer, but that is a delusion. I am a far, **far** superior servant to you, and your 'advice' is nothing more than a constant irritation! You've been a thorn in my side ever since I got here, and if you don't want me to make your life very, _very_ miserable- which I assure you, I can and will do, by reporting your atrocious behaviour to Madam Natsuhi- then you should keep out of my way. I will ruin your career if you don't; of that, I promise."

Gohda thought he sounded pretty cool, delivering that speech while holding that ladle. Maybe he was even threatening.

Unfortunately, Berune didn't seem disturbed at all. On the contrary, she was smiling.

Gohda hated that smile.

"Aww, come on!" said the young girl winsomely, blinking up at him. "I was just trying to be helpful! I've never really been able to show any new servants around, and the other maids push me around a little or treat me like a kid, so I just wanted to act like a big sister!"

With those words, Gohda felt his anger ebb somewhat.

"Big sister…?"

That line sounded completely ridiculous coming from a girl half his size and half his age. It was so stupid it was hard to stay mad at her.

Berune only nodded earnestly, hair bounce-bounce-bouncing.

"That's right! And, well…" she giggled shyly, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "I guess I was kind of in awe of you because you're such a good chef… So I wanted to hang around you lots and lots! I was just trying to help out lots so I'd stick out and you'd remember me, and then I could imagine you're thinking about me when you make such delicious food… Hehehe~" Nervous laughter; Berune anxiously began to fidget, her face flushing light pink. "So… No hard feelings, r-right? I'm really sorry… And, just between you and me…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I think you're the best chef I've ever met."

Gohda blinked at Berune in surprise. The young girl always acted like a real demon… but now she seemed sweet, and strangely sincere…?

Could it be…?

Was it true…?

Did she really appreciate him that much?

All of a sudden, Gohda's heart flooded with pride. He quite forgot to be angry at Berune- and he didn't really want to smash her face in with the ladle anymore. It would be such a waste; both of the ladle, and of Berune's rather cute face.

There was a small pause. Then, Gohda spoke. His voice was pompous and self-satisfied.

"Aah, now I see… It's quite alright. It's only natural a young girl like you would be enthralled by me… Yes, I can see it only too clearly! You were impressed, and didn't know how to tell me!"

"Y-yes! Y-yes, that's right…!"

"Well then, don't worry~ I'm not angry. I'm flattered." Gohda smiled. "And, if you like my food that much… maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll let you sample some of my more experimental recipes in the future."

Berune's eyes widened to comical proportions. If she'd been a character in a cartoon, hearts would have swirled around her head.

"T-thank you, Gohda!~ I love you!~~~"

* * *

><p><em>I really, really love you…<em>

_You gullible idiot._

Berune smirked to herself mischievously, as she chewed idly on a piece of cake Gohda had cut for her.

It was so easy to manipulate guys like that.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Magical Gohda Chef o: I don't think I've written anything about him yet- but from the vns, he's basically just a pompous showoff, right? XD  
>I think the idea of Beelze x Gohda is kind of hilarious though XD<p> 


	137. A sweet and unusual death

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #137: A sweet and unusual death

* * *

><p>Ronove had been watching Lambdadelta for quite some time, pondering whether it worth saying anything or not. However-<p>

_Splash!_

-that was her twenty-third sugar cube by now-

_Splash!_

-no, _twenty-fourth_, and the scene before him was beginning to get a little ridiculous. By this point, there were so many sugar cubes stacked up in Lambdadelta's teacup that they formed a messy sort of pyramid; looming over the brim of the cup in a precarious manner that suggested collapse was imminent.

It was wrong to say Lambdadelta had a cup of tea before her. Instead, she had a cup of brown mush and sugar cubes, which wasn't nearly the same thing.

Ronove rarely berated Lambdadelta about her table manners. She was a guest, and one of Beatrice's sort-of 'friends', so it was hardly in his place to chide her… unless she was being rude to Beatrice, of course.

It was hardly his business how much sugar she liked in her tea. Some butlers might have been offended if their guest tried to mask the taste of their tea with sugar, as though they didn't appreciate its natural flavor, but it was hardly worth worrying over. The moment Ronove handed the cup of tea to Lambdadelta it effectively belonged to her, so she could really do what she liked with it.

Truthfully, Ronove found Lambdadelta's little idiosyncrasies quite amusing to watch, too. Seeing her drop sugar cube after sugar cube into her cup, lips pursed, as though the ratio between sugar and tea was a complex mathematical formula she was trying to solve, was somewhat endearing.

Everybody had little quirks like that when it came to food; kind of like how Beelzebub had a bizarrely-reasoned hatred towards tomatoes which didn't make all that much sense, or how Virgilia loved mackerel.

However, twenty-four-

_Splash,__ splash, __thump_ (for now there was no tea left for the sugar cubes to splash into, having all been absorbed by sugar)-

-twenty-_seven_ sugar cubes was a bit excessive, even for Lambdadelta. Lambdadelta was an excessive person in general, but twenty-seven-

_Thump, thump-_

-twenty-nine, rather, sugar cubes was going too far.

It would now be physically impossible to drink that. There wasn't any liquid left in the cup.

That didn't stop Lambdadelta, though. Still, she continued to stack; rolling sugar cubes around between her black-gloved fingers with a thoughtful look on her face.

At this point, when the stack of sugar cubes had reached thirty-four, Ronove decided it was time to intervene.

"Lady Lambdadelta… Would you like any tea to go with your sugar at all?"

Lambdadelta blinked in what appeared to be genuine surprise. Was it possible she'd been so ensconced in her task she hadn't noticed what she was doing?

Judging by that sheepish grin, it looked like it.

"Ahahahaha, um, well… about that… Aaah, w-well… T-this is all Bern's fault, you know!" Lambdadelta suddenly exclaimed. "You'll never guess what Bern said to me the other day!"

"What did she say?"

Lambdadelta pouted cutely, folding her arms.

"My beloved Bern told me I might look sweet on the outside, but I'm all twisted and ugly and bitter inside!" Lambdadelta scowled, her leg- crossed over the other- kicking the underside of the table to showcase her anger. The small motion made the table shake, sending one or two sugar cubes tumbling from the top of her tower. "Can you believe Bern said that to me? She's so _mean_!"

"I would believe that of Lady Bernkastel, yes. It sounds like the kind of thing she would say."

"Well, I decided I was going to show her!" said Lambdadelta, slamming her fist against the table. "I'm going to eat lots and lots of sweets- like, 200% plus my daily intake, so you've gotta help me out here- and then I'll make my insides all yummy and delicious! I'll be sweet with my cuuu~uuute face and my equally cuuu~uuute internal organs! I'll eat so much sugary stuff I'll get, like, honey-glazed kidneys that would taste really nice drizzled in chocolate sauce, and my blood will turn to raspberry coulis, and then my lovely Bern can never say I'm un-sweet again! It's a **perfect** plan! Hyaaa!~"

And with that rather odd victory cry, Lambdadelta picked up her cup of brown, tea-flavored sugar...

And began to drink.

"A-aahh… …"

Or, rather…

"Uu… T-that's… _t-that__'__s **disgusting**_…"

She _tried_ to drink it.

She didn't exactly succeed.

Face contorting into a hideous grimace, Lambdadelta spat out a mouthful of sticky, gritty goo out onto the table. She coughed and hacked as though she were suffering from an asthma attack; wiping her mouth with her arm in desperation.

It didn't matter what she did.

The taste wouldn't go away!

It was so sweet, it was like _torture_.

"I-it feels like my throat is burning… U-urghh…" A low, pained moan. "I-I like sugar, but that… … T-that was hell in my mouth! U-urgh..."

Ronove didn't even think of reprimanding Lady Lambdadelta for spitting on the table like that. More than anything, he was impressed she had even _tried_to drink that 'thing' she had created.

She really must have cared for Bernkastel.

Trying not to laugh, Ronove asked in his most polite tones, "Would you like me to make you some more tea, Lady Lambdadelta?"

Lambdadelta coughed weakly.

"That… t-that would be very nice…"

* * *

><p>And, once more, Ronove watched with something resembling real admiration, as Lambdadelta steadfastly dropped sugar cube after sugar cube into her new cup of tea with heightened aplomb.<p>

Now there was a person who didn't give up.

…Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.


	138. Rapunzel

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #138: Rapunzel

* * *

><p>He told her she was a witch, magic incarnate, who could prowl the island of Rokkenjima in the form of so many beautiful butterflies. He told her she deserved to have her hair tied up neatly, exactly, oh-so-tightly so it hurt her scalp; that she deserved to wear those long skirts so heavy it felt like they were crushing her legs; that she deserved to sit under the arbor drinking tea for all eternity that was so bitter it stung when it went down.<p>

She deserved all this because she was a witch, the Golden Witch, Beatrice.

But she wasn't so sure.

If she was a witch, why then could she not escape? The grand mansion with its equally breath-taking garden looked beautiful at first glance… until one saw the wrought iron fence that wound round it, and the gate that was always bolted.

Kuwadorian was truly like something lifted straight from a fairytale; a watercolour illustration; too perfect to truly belong on the earth. But it was not the abode of a witch.

It was the prison of a princess.

She was Rapunzel, and he- her father, her lover, her captor- was the dragon that guarded her jealously. She could not escape.

She was no witch. Witches sneered in the faces of those who tried to imprison them. These days, she could not even bring herself to smile.

That which looked pretty on the outside was not so within, just like her mansion, just like the roses in the garden. They were enchanting to look upon, but boasted deadly spinning-wheel points that pricked the finger. They were rather too red, and their smell was too sweet. Once, when she was a young girl, she tried to pick them. They resisted her attempts and bit at her skin with pointed thorns. She bled bright red, drip, drip, drip; and as the blood mixed with the soil, she swore the roses became all the redder for it.

She had always had an over-active imagination.

He said she was a witch, but she was trapped inside a cage and couldn't escape.

He said she was a witch, but she bled bright red, not slime or smoke, she drank tea instead of mysterious potions with transmogrifying properties, and when she heard the melancholy howl of the wind through the forest at night it scared her.

He said she was a witch, but she didn't feel like a witch at all.

She was a lonely princess, a young girl, with hair coiled up in a bun so heavy she couldn't even lift her head and a dress that crushed her dainty body like a twig. All she could do was sit and hope and think and dream and drink cup of tea after cup of tea even though she was quite sick of it by now; wondering, wishing, waiting.

She waited for so very, very long.

She waited as the seasons changed the color of the leaves and wilted the red roses; waited as the air became bitterly cold and then sunny once more; waited as her hair grew longer, she grew taller, her curves swelled into something more ladylike; but she still remained a child inside.

She waited and waited and waited.

She didn't know what, exactly, she was waiting for until she found it.

That was when _she_ arrived.

She was a young girl- or maybe she was not that young, but Beatrice had not seen other girls like her beyond picture book illustrations and her own reflection in the mirror, so she was unsure. The girl had two pigtails, wore shoes encrusted with dirt, and there were leaves in her hair. It looked as if this scrawny, skinny child had been dragged through a forest backwards.

She wasn't elegant or graceful or anything particularly noteworthy.

But to Beatrice, she was perfect.

She was how girls should have been- or, at least, how Beatrice imagined _she_could have lived, had she not been caged inside the body of a false witch, trapped by the wrought iron fence and blood red roses of her prison. This girl was one who looked… _normal_- and although Beatrice had a shaky grasp on the concept of 'normality', she thought this girl definitely fit the description. She wasn't wearing an impractical dress, and her hair wasn't tied with several bobby pins, and her cheeks were flushed and healthy.

Her name was Ushiromiya Rosa, and she had become lost in the forest.

Rosa was dubious of Beatrice at first- looking at her with surprise, distrust, maybe even fear. Beatrice didn't mind. It was the first time she had been observed by an outsider, and for the first time she no longer felt like a little girl trying to fill the shoes of the witch in his expectations. Instead, she felt… human.

An ordinary girl.

Beatrice saw herself reflected in Rosa's eyes as the child she was deep down inside; the haughty, slightly arrogant, and yet incredibly naïve and innocent and unknowledgeable human girl.

It was nice… being looked at like that.

There was so very much she didn't know.

Rosa spoke to her of all kinds of things; of her life in the mansion on the other side of the island; of her older brothers and sister and how they bullied her; of how she wasn't particularly good at schoolwork and this annoyed her teachers; of zoos and aquariums and theme parks and the busy, noisy, ever-changing world of humans that Beatrice had never known, sat her in cage so like a lovely linnet bird told day after day it was really a lark.

As Rosa spoke, Beatrice's mouth fell open, and her eyes did, too; fell open to the all the amazing sights she had been denied, because she was a witch.

No…

Not a witch.

A princess in a tower.

Rapunzel.

And that girl- that wonderfully, utterly _normal_ girl, with her rucked-up socks and messy hair- was her prince.

All Beatrice had to do was let down her hair, or take Rosa's hand… and she would be free forever.

She didn't want to go back.


	139. Denial

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #139: Denial

* * *

><p>"Hey, little lady. How are you this finneee sunny day? Hihihi~"<p>

"Shut up. And stop smiling like that. You look like an idiot."

"Eh? How'd you know?"

"…Intuition."

Ange hadn't even turned around to pass judgement on Amakusa's face. Her empty eyes were still trained upon the vast expanse of blue sky and blue ocean surrounding the ship. Even so, Ange knew, she just _knew_, that Amakusa was smirking in that stupid way of his.

Something about the cheery tone in his voice was radiating pure _irritation_, as it usually did whenever the silver-haired man was in good spirits.

The mere thought of Amakusa smiling pissed Ange off.

She wasn't in the mood to see any happy faces.

"Aww, Lady, you're so mean," Amakusa whined, chuckling to himself, as he took a seat beside Ange. "What's got you all hot and bothered, hmm?"

Ange didn't spare him so much as a sideways glance.

"Be quiet. I've got a headache."

"Hihi~ I thought you were acting a little more sulky than usual~"

"I-I'm not sulking!"

"Are you seasick, then?"

"No."

"You sureee? Want me to rub your back? I can do a pretty good massage, look-"

"_No_. Keep your hands to yourself!"

Amakusa laughed, watching as Ange's face turned red from anger and embarrassment. She pretended to be so cool and aloof, but Ange was really, reaalllyyy cute when she let that side of her personality show~ It seemed almost a waste to…

Ah, never mind.

He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

That was how Amakusa lived his life.

"I know, Lady…" said Amakusa, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"W-what are you doing, you creep?"

Amakusa had his lips pressed against the shell of Ange's ear- and maybe it was good Ange couldn't see his face from a distance, because his teasing smirk would've made Ange want to rip his face clean off. Ange shuddered at the close contact, but she didn't move away.

It didn't look like she could.

"I bet you're tired from that night of intense passion we spent last night, huhhh? Hihi~"

Ange froze.

Her face turned crimson.

Then- in a sudden, swift movement- she lunged forwards, grabbing hold of Amakusa's face with her hand. Crushing his nose between her fingers (ha! He didn't look so handsome _now__… _Not that he was handsome anyway!), Ange got to her feet and slammed her supposed 'bodyguard' against the side of the ship.

"That never happened," said Ange dangerously, her eyes narrowed. "That never happened and you know it! Stop making things up! If you're that desperate for attention, why don't you go take a dive into the ocean? You're worse than a child!"

Amakusa, despite his pain, only grinned.

"If it's not true then why are you getting so embarrassed about ittt?~"

"I-I-"

"I bet you've thought of it too, hm?"

Amakusa's comment was met with a furious blush and a gasp of irritation- and, last but not least, a vicious kick to his shin. Amakusa doubled over (the little lady could pack a vicious punch!), watching as Ange stalked off, but…

He couldn't help but smile.

That violent outburst was all the proof he needed, really.

"Hihihi~ She's _so_ into me."


	140. A discussion between big sisters

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #140: A discussion between big sisters

* * *

><p>It was an unusually busy day in Beato's corner of the meta world. The Chiester Sisters, with nothing else to do, had decided to pay a surprise visit on the seven stakes. The seven stakes by themselves were a rather loud and unruly bunch, but throw Chiester 410 into the mix, who easily outstripped Beelzebub and Mammon <em>combined<em> when it came to hyperactivity and being annoying, and everything became so loud it was almost impossible to hear oneself think.

Chiester 410 was trying to steal Beelzebub's cookies, much to the curly-haired stake's displeasure. Nothing was more likely to make her squeal like a cat being stepped on than having her food taken away from her. It was her one weak point, and without a constant supply of cookies and pastries (preferably made by Ronove) then she'd _die_! Didn't Chiester 410 realize she was **killing **her?

…Strangely enough, though, for somebody who claimed to be on the verge of a sad, sugar-less demise, Beelzebub sure was capable of making a lot of noise.

At some point Mammon had joined in the elaborate game of keep-away with Chiester 410 side, and both bunny girl and humanoid stake were laughing in a constant string of 'kyahahahaha!'s as Beelzebub grew more and more whiny about her missing food. Perhaps taking pity on her older sister, Asmodeus decided to help Beelzebub reclaim her lost cookies, but she wasn't really very good at.

Asmodeus was more of a hindrance than a help, really.

Throw in Satan, who was beginning to get a headache from all the **noise** and now wanted to strangle one of her sisters, and the resultant scene was very chaotic indeed.

That was probably why Virgilia, Ronove, Gaap, Beatrice and Leviathan had all left. Some people might have said they were running away from their problems, but those people obviously hadn't seen the Chiester Sisters and the Stakes of Purgatory having an argument. It was all out _war_. Any reasonable creature of average intelligence, be they a human, a demon or a witch, would want to avoid that.

It would save their eardrums from being torn to shreds.

Lucifer only wished she'd had the hindsight to scarper while she still had the chance. She felt quite jealous of her younger sister, who'd done the smart thing and vanished way before Satan started threatening to cut out eyeballs. Leviathan wasn't very good with loud, noisy situations, though, so Lucifer couldn't really be angry at her for leaving, even if she was the second-oldest sister.

At least Chiester 45 was keeping out of trouble; having a pleasant conversation with Belphegor about a book she was reading.

The conversation _had _been pleasant, at any rate… until Beelzebub accidentally punched Chiester 45 in the face whilst lunging across the room to grab hold of her runaway pastries, at the same time trying to avoid Satan who wanted to kill her.

Whoever said Beelzebub couldn't multitask?

Of course, Chiester 45 didn't very much like being punched in the face, and she began to cry. It was a perfectly natural response.

And _then_ we have to throw Gertrude into the mix. The highly ranking member of Eiserne Jungfrau had come to pay a visit to Virgilia, as she often did. Unfortunately, Virgilia hadn't been there, so Gertrude had been about to head back to the courts of heaven. Her lunch break was almost over, and she had several fun-filled few hours of filing paperwork shoes ahead of her.

But Gertrude hadn't been able to escape quite that easily.

The mingled sound of laughter, screams, sobs and shouts from the Chiester Sisters and the stakes had interrupted her hopes for a peaceful tea time completely.

And that was how Gertrude, Chiester 00 and Lucifer- the mature, big sister type characters- found themselves sorting everything out before somebody was brutally murdered.

It would have been a lot easier getting everything under control if Beatrice, Ronove and Virgilia had been there as well (Gaap would only have made the situation worse), but they weren't, and our three big sisters just had to deal with everything on their own.

It was a good thing Gertrude had such a commanding voice. Nobody could ignore a person like her; especially when she started throwing orders around. Chiester 00 was commanding, too, but in a different way. There was something about her empty eyes and emotionless face that made people uneasy. She could silence a whole room without even saying a word.

Lucifer couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of them. Nobody ever listened to her like that- _and_ she was the oldest stake…

I-it was so _embarrassing_.

Her sisters' bad behaviour was going to reflect poorly on her leadership prowess, she knew it! Lucifer respected Gertrude and Chiester 00 greatly, so she couldn't help but feel horribly inferior in their presence.

"A-aha… T-thank you for your help!" said our favorite stake sister, Lucifer, her face flushing dark red. Her heavy blushing made her feel even more embarrassed and flustered which, of course, only made her blush more. "You know how noisy younger people can be, yes?"

She looked at Gertrude and Chiester 00 hopefully, but it was in vain.

Neither of them quite met her eye.

Were they… pitying her…?

"Well…" said Gertrude slowly, "some of the younger members at Eiserne Jungfrau can be immature at times, so I understand your feelings."

"I also understand," Chiester 00 echoed, in that strangely mechanical way of hers. "Chiester 410 can be childish at times."

"However…"

The two women looked at each other. Then, they looked back at Lucifer.

"…But let it be known that people generally do what I tell them to most of the time."

"Yes. It is the same in my case."

"That's not to say you're a bad older sister, though, Miss Lucifer- really. I'm not trying to insinuate anything…"

"It must be tough, having as many as six siblings."

"And you really _are_ quite a bit younger than us, so…"

"It will be fine."

"We understand your situation. We're not trying to make fun of you; I'm sure you have many other excellent qualities that would make you a good leader… Um, maybe one day…"

Suffice to say, their 'kind' words weren't really helping.

Lucifer's face was now even redder than her jacket.

W-why was everybody pitying her all of a sudden? W-was she really that useless? T-they were making her feel like a little kid…!

"Don't worry about it, Miss Lucifer," said Gertrude, smiling a small, friendly smile. "I'm sure your sisters will pay more attention to you when you get older."

_Ow_.

And that was the last straw.

Her pride was never going to recover from an attack like that.


	141. Do you want to play?

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #141: Do you want to play?

* * *

><p>"Look Bern, it's you!"<p>

No reply.

"Bern, Bern, Bernnnn! Look, look, looook!"

Bernkastel didn't move. She continued to read her book in stony silence.

Lambdadelta frowned, tugging at the arms of her doll. She'd been talking to Gaap a lot lately, and Gaap had finally caved and agreed to make Lambda an adorable plushie-version of her oh-so-excellent Bern! Lambda was so happy about her little stuffed toy friend she couldn't think about it without exclamation points!

Of course, Lambda did have to let Gaap be Miss Scarlet for a game or two of Cluedo… but it was totally worth it in the end.

Gaap really was good at sewing. Plushie Bern looked really bored and 'better than thou' with her stitched mouth in a straight-across frown, and those button eyes were so cute!

Kyaaaa!~

"Bern, pay attention to me!" Lambda wailed, still padding her stuffed Bernkastel around the floor. "I have something really, really adorable! Come and play with me!"

Still silence.

"Uu! I don't know you're even my friend, Bern, you're so mean!"

"As is my nature. It's never deterred you before," Bernkastel finally replied, voice emotionless.

"Well… W-well, maybe I've decided I don't wanna put up with your lousy moodswings! Maybe I don't even love you anymore! What would you do then?" said Lambda, sticking out her tongue.

Bernkastel replied immediately, "If you don't love me then I see no reason to stay here and suffer your childish whining."

"Go then! I'll be much, much happier with my little plushie Bern~"

Bernkastel raised a brow, her attention finally snagging on the small doll Lambda was parading up and down the floor.

"…What is that?"

"It's plushie Bern and I love her! I love her more than you! She's so cute and adorable, and you're just mean and nasty to me! Plushie Bern would never hurt me or make fun of me, and she would never call me childish, and she always listens to me~ I'll sleep with her at night and I don't need to cuddle you, you see, because she'll always be there for me!~ You can just leave now, I have the perfect replacement, gyahahaha!"

Although Bernkastel's face remained impassive, Lambdadelta could tell her words had nettled her. Her frown looked even frostier than usual.

"Awww~ Jealous?"

Bern was so cute when she was upset like that~

Bernkastel didn't respond. Instead, she got to her feet, stalking over to Lambdadelta, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor like a little child. Bernkastel stood over Lambdadelta for a few moments before a rather cruel smirk spread across her lips.

"You wanted me to play with you, yes?"

"I like games, fufufu~"

"Well… I'm sure you'll like this one, then."

And with that, Bernkastel plucked the plushie version of herself from Lambdadelta's hands. She stared at the doll for a few moments, her smirk growing even wider, even more disturbing, until Lambdadelta wondered whether she could unhinge her jaw like a snake-

And then Bernkastel put the plush toy in her mouth-

"H-hey, what are you doing?"

-and bit off its head.

Wait- Lambda still couldn't process that properly.

Bern bit of plushie Bern's head!

She **killed** her!

Lambda's eyes widened as Bern threw both decapitated body and severed head on the floor. The head rolled like a plush bowling ball leaking stuffing (and velocity) for a few moments, before it bumped against Lambdadelta's leg.

Lambdadelta's eyes filled with crocodile tears. "B-bern! You _murderer_!"

"Oh? I was just playing a fun game. But, if you don't like it, I'm sure we could do something else that's fun instead…?"

"I don't know…" Lambdadelta sniffed. "W-what about plushie Bern? I-I really thought we had something special there, and you RUINED it! That was a human life you snuffed out!"

Bernkastel's voice was coldly toneless once more when she said, "Don't be such a child. Could a stuffed toy do this?"

And with that, Bernkastel gently- far more gently that usual- pressed her lips against Lambda's, in a soft kiss.

Uhuhu~

Bern _must _have been jealous, to show such a cu~ute side of her personality like that…

Lambdadelta smiled to herself.

That plan had worked perfectly.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Based somewhat on this picture:  
>http :  / www . pixiv . net / member_?mode=medium&illust_id=21079290


	142. Working together

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #142: Working together

* * *

><p>Kanon suppressed an exhausted groan as he hefted the heavy bag of fertilizer up from the floor. Expressing fatigue was unseemly for a servant- and that was doubly true for furniture. Furniture did not have the required emotions to tire of their tasks. Tables and chairs never stated they were tired, and neither could Kanon.<p>

He was really no different from a table or a chair.

But, even though Kanon kept trying to tell himself that, it didn't alter the fact he _was_ beginning to get tired. He had a very small, very slight frame- almost feminine, which had always embarrassed him. The other male servants, Genji and Gohda, were built with more muscle than he was, and they were a lot stronger and taller, too. Because Genji and Gohda were good at manual labor Natsuhi assumed Kanon would be as well, given he was also male.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Kanon's arms were thin, his constitution too frail, his stature too short. He didn't have enough physical strength to do all the gardening, and it was slowly beginning to wear him down. He had cuts all over his hands, and his fingers had been rubbed red raw from working the old, stiff garden shears. Now his back was beginning to ache as well, from moving all the sacks of fertilizer from the shed to the rose garden.

He couldn't do it all by himself.

It was… impossible... for a weak person like him.

But Kanon couldn't tell that to Natsuhi. He couldn't admit he was weak or worthless. What did people do to furniture that couldn't do its job properly?

They threw it onto the scrap heap.

Kanon refused to be thrown aside. He had to stay on Rokkenjima. He needed to… he needed to defend Shannon, he needed to protect her- s-she was such an idiot, and she wouldn't be able to cope without him.

Kanon gritted his teeth together, trying not to gasp in pain, as, again and again, he tried to shift the fertilizer. He could do this. He could all by himself. He had to, for Shannon…

It was a hot day, and Kanon felt his forehead beginning to burn. It dripped unpleasantly with warm sweat.

Useless…

H-he really was useless furniture…

H-he…

H-he… …

"H-huh…?"

Kanon gasped in surprise. He knew he wasn't supposed to openly display emotion like that, but he couldn't help himself. All of a sudden, just like magic, the heavy weight he'd been trying to shift suddenly… vanished.

Kanon tipped his head back and blinked.

He was standing somebody's shadow.

That somebody had lifted the sack of fertilizer easy, as though it weighed no more than a feather. And that person, who towered above Kanon with a serious look on their face, was-

"Genji…?"

As Genji looked down at Kanon, the young servant felt himself getting flustered with embarrassment; something that happened to Shannon with alarming regularity, but rarely happened to him. Kanon always scolded his big sister when she openly blushed like, but now he was doing the exact same thing.

Seeing Genji lift the heavy bag so easily made him feel embarrassed. Inadequate. If it was that easy for Genji, why couldn't he do it, too?

Based on Genji's joyless expression, Kanon got the feeling he was being scolded for his incompetence, and he nervously bowed his head. At least he was able to hide his flushed face that way.

"I'm sorry I could not complete my task and was a burden-"

But Kanon didn't finish.

He didn't finish because Genji, contrary to his silent nature, had cut him off.

"It is no trouble. But, if you have been given a task you cannot complete, it is pointless to struggle over it by yourself… …. You're wasting time."

Genji spoke sharply, but at the same time, he sounded somewhat compassionate. He was just like a father trying to give a stubborn child some advice.

"In cases like this, it would be fine if you asked for help. Not even servants can do everything by themselves. We all have our limits."

Kanon looked at Genji with wide eyes filled with gratitude. It was… okay to ask for help? But Madam Natsuhi always said…

B-but, if Genji, an experienced servant, was saying it was fine… then surely… it was fine?

Maybe he didn't have to do everything on his own after all.

For the first time that day, Kanon finally allowed himself to sigh heavily, but this was not a sigh of pain.

It was one of relief.

It felt like a very heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

When two people worked together, jobs really did get finished a lot more quickly.


	143. That sickening feeling, part 1

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #143: That sickening feeling, Part 1

* * *

><p><em>Yawn.<em>

One eye open, then the other; n-no, wait, that hurts… …

Urgh… H-had her room always been that _bright_?

_Blink, blink._

…Oh.

So_that_ was why it was so light. Somebody had already come in and opened the curtains. They must've done, 'cause she swore she closed them yesterday before she went to sleep. Unless she'd suddenly taken up sleep-walking and, um… sleep-curtain-opening…

Was that even a real thing?

Maybe she could ask Belphegor. Belphe knew everything.

A shaft of warm, butter-colored sunshine sliced through her bedroom, illuminating the dusty pink wallpaper and the swirls of dust dancing through the air.

It got into her eyes, too.

Blinking white spots of sunlight from her vision, the youngest Stake of Purgatory- our ever-adorable little Asmodeus- moaned, small mutters of pain escaping her lips; "Owie, owie, oww…"

Usually, she was a cheerful girl who liked the sunshine. However, at that moment, all that bright light was _way_too much_way_ too early in the morning. It felt a little like her eyeballs were being repeatedly lanceted with tiny, sharp needles.

Asmodeus rubbed her poor, stinging eyes with the back of her hands to dispel the pain. At the same time (haha; see, she **could** multi-task!, she wondered who exactly could have opened the curtains.

With the full power of her detective's inanition, Asmodeus was able to whittle down the list of suspects in a relatively short time.

If Beelze or Mammon had opened the curtains they would've been unable to resist jumping on her bed and waking her up soon after. Satan would have shouted at her to stop being lazy, get off her ass and do some work. Belphegor and Lucifer probably would have shaken her awake gently, reminding her that, as a proud Stake of Purgatory, she couldn't afford to sleep in on the job.

It could have been Leviathan, Asmodeus supposed, but her older sister would probably be jealous she'd been allowed to sleep in early and would also have woken her up.

It must have been Ange.

Asmodeus was sure of it.

Yesterday Asmodeus had started to look really pale and off-color, and Ange had been worried. Her worries had increased when Asmodeus went to bed early last night. The young stake usually tried to stay up as late as she could to keep on par with her older sisters. She'd watch horror movies until midnight with Mammon even though she didn't really like them, just to prove she could be mature even if she was the youngest. But she had been tired yesterday- exhausted, really; and she'd gone to sleep at seven.

It was pretty nice of Ange to let her sleep in like that, but now Asmodeus was starting to feel guilty. She might have felt a little hot, sure, but she wasn't sick; she could work just fine. She didn't want to worry Ange, or her sisters, by not getting up.

What were they doing, anyway…?

A sudden burst of noise from outside her bedroom window made Asmodeus turn her head. Her hair, loose and free around her shoulders, fluttered slightly at the small movement.

"Kyaahh! Satan, you're soo~oo cute when you're scrabbling around in the dirt! Oh, look how the MIGHTY have FALLEN!"

"S-shut up, Mammon, or I'll smash your head in with this rake!"

"You two, calm down. Mammon, stop baiting Satan. Satan, don't smash in any heads. Ange wants us to do the gardening tastefully- not decorate it with blood and bits of broken bone! Why can't you listen to me for once? I am the oldest sister!"

Asmodeus, who at this point had risen slowly from her comfy bed, peeped out of her bedroom window at the garden below. The rest of her sisters were all standing around in the garden, having some kind of argument, whilst Ange, Leviathan and Belphegor were crouched on the ground diligently digging holes into the earth and dropping seeds into them.

Oh yeah… Didn't Ange say yesterday she wanted to do some gardening? Ange had been fixing up her parents' old house for quite some time- ever since the moment she started to live there, in fact. She said the house as it was reminded her too much of her parents, and her big brother.

People she would never see again.

Although Ange tried to hide her real feelings over the matter, Asmodeus was sure she was upset. Refurbishing and redoing the house she had lived in as a kid, scrapping furniture and replanting a garden that must have held so many happy memories for her, must have been painful. Those happy memories weren't really 'happy' anymore, though; now, they were just a bitter reminder of what she had lost. Ange had said that much when Asmodeus tentatively asked her if it was really okay to tear the wallpaper down from her beloved big brother's bedroom. Ange's reply had been something like, "Well, there's no point living in the past. They're not coming back… so what's the point?"

Asmodeus had felt so sorry for Ange she'd automatically, without giving it too much thought, given her a hug.

Asmodeus might not have been human, but she did understand the concept of family. After all, she had her six older sisters, and she loved them, even if they did tease her sometimes. She had Beato, too, who had been just like another big sister too her when she wasn't being 'Milady', and then there were Virgilia, Gaap and Ronove. If anything bad happened to them, Asmodeus would have been devastated- of that, she was sure.

Now she was Ange's family, too. And family supported each other through difficult times, right?

Asmodeus smiled to herself as she watched the happy scene play out in the garden. Although Lucifer looked irritated at her sisters' antics (Asmodeus couldn't get a clear look at her face, but she knew from experience what expression she'd be pulling), Asmodeus had always thought it was a good thing Ange had so many rowdy stakes to look after. It kept her busy, and if she was busy she couldn't be unhappy.

Asmodeus felt herself becoming slightly jealous as she continued to watch from her bedroom window. She was part of that group too, right? So what was she doing all by herself?

She wanted to go join in the fun!

True, she might have felt a little shaky, and she was shivering a little even though it wasn't cold… and, yeah, her forehead burned a little, but she was sure she would be fine.

This was nothing.

With a yawn, Asmodeus raised her hands above her head and stretched. Her bones cracked weakly in quiet protest. Then, with a wide smile on her face, Asmodeus turned about and began to search her wardrobe for a suitable outfit to wear for gardening.

It'd take all the powers of all the demons in hell combined to keep her away from her sisters…

And Ange, too.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Started on that other oneshot arc suggest by Fan of Games, yeah~ But, of course, it ended up longer than requested… That always happens XDD; Enjoy?~

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	144. That sickening feeling, part 2

**Being ****Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #144: That sickening feeling, Part 2

* * *

><p>Asmodeus neatly tied her signature twin tails and, after some deliberation, threw an old cardigan on over her stake uniform so she wouldn't get her prized red blazer dirty whilst gardening. Once she was fresh and presentable for the rest of humanity, Asmodeus skipped downstairs and out into the garden, happy to join her family.<p>

She was smiling all the while.

It was a nice, warm day with a gentle breeze, and although Asmodeus was feeling a little weak at the knees she hoped the calm, peaceful atmosphere outside would help rejuvenate her a little.

Asmodeus' eyelids fluttered shut as the sun swept across her face, giving her pale cheeks a more rosy hue. Sighing softly, with the air of one who was a real romantic to rival Wordsworth, she inhaled the scent of freshly mown grass, and marvelled at how pretty everything could be in the human world. Earth was so vastly different from her old home, with its white walls and white ceilings, that the beauty of everything sometimes overwhelmed her. When everything felt like a little too much, she had to close her eyes. Sometimes she would even pinch herself, just to make sure her life with Ange wasn't a dream.

She knew it was the same for her other sisters, too.

But the marvels of the human weren't the _only_things that overwhelmed Ange on that particular sunny morning.

Asmodeus thought much too highly of her big sisters if she had believed, for one second, that any scene of them doing the gardening could create a 'peaceful' atmosphere.

"Get back, here, Beelze- I'll smash your stupid face in!"

Our poor little dreamer was not prepared.

"Kyaaaah!~ Asmo, save me, save me!"

She prepared at all.

Asmodeus' eyes snapped open. Suddenly, against her will… she found herself being used as a human shield?

W-what was going on?

Beelzebub, who had barrelled into her out of nowhere, had her arms held tightly round Asmodeus' middle, her head burrowed her head against her back.

And what was Beelzebub trying so desperately to hide from?

I'll give you three guesses, and two don't count.

But Asmodeus never found out why Satan was so angry, or- perhaps the most important question- what Beelzebub thought Asmodeus, the youngest sister, would be able to do to help her. (The answer to that was very little, especially when Satan was armed with a trowel, but that is neither here nor there).

She never found out, because-

"K-kyaaaah! … …O-oww…"

Well. Asmodeus hadn't expected Beelzebub to launch herself at her stomach like a cannonball, so she wasn't able to defend herself in time. Asmodeus had been feeling pretty unsteady before, anyway.

So she fell over.

_Splat_.

Just like that.

It was something of a foregone conclusion, really.

At least her graceless descent onto the cold, hard floor managed to pull Satan out of her rage-filled stupor to kill all humans (or all people called Beelzebub), so that was something.

"Asmodeus? Asmodeus, are you alright?"

Asmodeus felt herself being shifted into a sitting position, as Ange- it smelt like Ange, anyway- gently pulled her up off the floor.

Asmodeus was glad for Ange's help, really, because her insides hurt and she was feeling kind of nauseous, and being knocked over like that had set her whole head spinning. She probably wouldn't have been able to get up by herself. Her knees hurt, too. Maybe she'd gotten some cuts or scrapes, perhaps a bruise or two.

Physical injuries were inevitable when living with six rowdy sisters, though. Not that Belphegor or Lucifer were rowdy, really- but the others had enough energy to make up for their restraint, and _more_.

Urgh. Owie owie oww…

All this sudden movement wasn't good for Asmodeus' head, though. She appreciated Ange's concern, but now the whole garden was spinning.

Bleehhh.

Asmodeus now understood what the clothes in the washing machine felt like, after having her universe flip itself upside down before her open eyes. Maybe she'd wash all her clothes by hand from now on, so she didn't feel guilty putting her trusty green cardigan through such torture.

"Are you alright?" Ange repeated, holding the youngest stake to her chest.

Asmodeus replied by spitting out one of her pigtails, which had somehow gotten mixed into her mouth. There were some bits of dirt in there, too, and- eww… That really wasn't helping her stomach ache any. In fact, she was beginning to feel even sicker than she had this morning.

The feeling of Ange's arms round her was nice, though. It was soft and warm, and comforting… almost as if she was a princess being held by her one true love~

Asmodeus giggled softly at that silly thought.

She was fine. She didn't want to worry Ange; especially not over a small tumble like that. She'd sustained_way_ worse injuries from her days of being one of Beato's stakes. Some dirt in the mouth, a stomach ache and a few bumps were nothing.

"I-I'm fine," said Asmodeus softly, trying to smile. "T-thank you, Ange…"

"Good grief. You took quite a nasty fall there," Ange returned Asmodeus' small smile with one of her own. It was rare Ange smiled. Even when she was happy, she still kept a rather tight-lipped expression. Asmodeus couldn't help but feel a little bit, well… almost special, to see it, as though she had been given a precious gift.

But Ange's smile soon turned into a glare.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Beelzebub?"

"Um…" The Stake of Gluttony looked down at the floor sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Asmo… I usually tackle-hug bigger people than you, like Gaap or Ronove, and I forgot you're all small and teensy-tiny so you might not be able to support me, ahaha… I was just playing, honest!"

"No, it's okay!" Asmodeus was only too quick to reassure her.

Beelzebub did a lot of silly things, but it was rarely out of any real malice. She was just a bit thoughtless sometimes.

"And what about you, Satan?" said Ange, now turning on the Stake of Wrath.

"… …Sorry. I didn't want to hurt you- I was just trying to decapitate _that _idiot."

The idiot in question being, of course, Beelzebub.

Ange sighed. "You shouldn't decapitate anybody. We've had this conversation _so_ many times."

"Yes, Ange..."

"Right then."

Ange gently helped Asmodeus to her feet, and began to retie her messy pigtails so they were even again. Hehe~ That was something Belphegor usually did.

"Would you like to sit inside, Asmodeus? If you have any cuts or bruises we need to get them looked after. Plus, you're looking a little flustered…"

"Oh, no!" said Asmodeus, shaking her head. "I'm fine! I'll be okay- I just want to start working and help you guys out!"

"Are you sure…?"

"Yep yep! I've spent too much time lying in bed already, so I have to make up for that, hehe!~"

"That's true," said Leviathan, pouting. "Why did you get to lie in, anyway? That's so unfair!"

Asmodeus giggled and made a peace sign with her fingers. "Well, I'm fine now, so don't worry! What are you doing down there, Levia? What are you planting in that hole?"

"…Pumpkins."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun!"

"It's not," said Leviathan dryly. "Trust me."

"Aww, you're just in a bad mood because you didn't get a lie-in," said Asmodeus brightly, skipping over to her older sister. "Here, I'll help you out. Work gets done quicker together, right?"

Leviathan was a girl unable to express her real emotions, so when she tried to show Asmodeus her gratitude the words came out a lot more harshly than she wanted; "Y-yeah, sure, do whatever you want… I-it's not like I _need_ your help or anything…" But Asmodeus could interpret her real meaning just fine, so she didn't get offended.

Ange watched as Asmodeus worked, frowning slightly. Asmodeus said she was fine, and she was acting as energetic as always, but still… she had shown some symptoms of a fever yesterday, and she had felt a little hot when she held her.

But, if Asmodeus said she was okay…

Then Ange would trust her.

Asmodeus wasn't like Belphegor, who worked dutifully to the point of collapse if nobody told her to stop.

And, speaking of work…

"Oi, Mammon! Stop playing with the neighbours' cat and get some work done already!"

"But I just want to hold her, Ange!~ It's so cute and fluffy and adorable, it's not like she'll be dangerous or any- oww! A-ange…" Mammon turned to look at Ange tearfully, cradling her right hand. "I-it bit me…"

"Good grief."

Ange sighed, bringing her palm to meet to her head with a light thud.

Instead of worrying about Asmodeus, she should have been paying more attention to Mammon.


	145. That sickening feeling, part 3

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #145: That sickening feeling, Part 3

* * *

><p>Asmodeus had <em>said<em> she was fine, but Ange couldn't help but worry.

As the day wore on, and the weather grew hotter and hotter, Ange saw there were some definite signs of fatigue in the youngest stake.

Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid. Perhaps exhaustion was only to be expected, given how difficult manual tasks like gardening could be. It wasn't only Asmodeus who looked tired, after all. The other stakes also had messy hair, flushed faces and dirt spattering their clothes.

Mammon was digging holes haphazardly, and very, very, slowly. Mammon watched as the dirt fell from the end of her trowel and back to the floor with the same kind of mesmerized interest a four year old might have. Most of the soil she shifted ended up back in the hole she was trying to dig, so the whole process was pointless.

Beelzebub wasn't even doing that. She had long since thrown her trowel down in protest, and was now complaining loudly about how much she wanted some ice-cream. That in itself wasn't so strange. Beelzebub always complained about food. It'd be even weirder if she wasn't. No- the _really_ bizarre thing was that nobody scolded her for it.

Not even _Satan_.

Nobody had enough energy.

The fact that Beelzebub could still whine about wanting ice-cream, even after doing so much work, was something like a miracle. Or maybe that meant she hadn't been working as hard as everybody else.

Ange couldn't even scold the younger stake for complaining. The idea of having ice-cream was beginning to appeal to her as well. They'd been working outside for three hours, so surely they deserved a break?

But, even if she was being paranoid, Ange was sure Asmodeus looked far worse than everybody else.

The poor girl was drenched with sweat. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead as though they had been glued in place. Her cheeks were bright red. Her usual smile, which always cheered Ange up when she was feeling down, was gone.

It had vanished a long while ago.

And yet, despite the fact Asmodeus' face was burning up, she still hadn't taken off her dirt-stained cardigan. Her face was red, but she was shivering badly, just like a little leaf in a gale. Ange swore, if she got close enough, she'd be able to hear her teeth chattering.

These observations were not entirely new to Ange. She had noticed a steady decline in Asmodeus' health during the past three hours. However, every time Ange tried to ask her about it, Asmodeus would smile and say she was fine, so there was no need to worry.

Ange had tried to believe her. She had tried to tell herself she was being silly, and she really _should _learn to trust people, or her relationships would never get anywhere. Didn't good friends trust each other?

But trust worked two ways, didn't it? One person had to tell the truth, and the other had to accept their words as the truth. And Asmodeus was lying, then it showed she didn't trust Ange. Ange hoped that wasn't the case, so she tried her hardest to believe what Asmodeus said… but she couldn't.

Now, Ange had no choice but to accept _her_perception of 'fine' and Asmodeus' were two very different things.

Honestly- the poor girl could barely keep her head raised.

Why was she lying?

Was it because she was afraid? Did she still see Ange as 'Milady', and not a real friend? Or… was it when Ange denied her existence back and St. Lucia's, and she crumbled into dust?

Ange didn't know- but she was beginning to get a headache.

"Alright!" Ange suddenly declared, throwing her trowel down on the floor. "That's enough. We're all tired-"

"And sweaty," said Satan disgustedly, picking at her shirt,

"And dirty," said Leviathan.

"And hungry," said…

You know, I don't even think that needs a dialogue tag.

"Yeah, we're all those things," Ange agreed. "So why don't you have the rest of the day off? You can go inside and help yourself to some ice-cream if you-"

But Ange never got to finish the rest of her sentence. At the mention of the word 'ice-cream', Beelzebub's whole face lit up, as though she had just won a lifetime's supply of vanilla fudge cake. (Of course, a lifetime's supply would only last Beelzebub a few weeks, given she had a bottomless stomach made of iron… but that is neither here or there.) With a joyous squeal of delight, Beelzebub dashed forwards, throwing her arms round Ange in a bone-crushing hug.

"Yaaaaay!~ I love you, Ange!~"

But, quicker than you could say 'cookies', Beelzebub had pulled herself out of the violent tackle-hug with Ange, and was skipping off merrily into the house.

She was soon followed by the rest of her sisters.

"Hey, Beelze! Don't think you're gonna get there first and have all the ice-cream to yourself; I won't allow it! As the Stake of Greed, I definitely won't allow it!"

Mammon had already realized, if Beelzebub got to the freezer first, there wouldn't be any food left for anybody else.

"Please slow down, you two!" called Lucifer, reaching out to grab hold of Mammon's shoulder. "It's dangerous to run inside- you'll fall over or break something, just like last time!"

Soon, the only people left outside were Ange and Asmodeus.

In the sudden, excited rush for ice-cream, the other stakes hadn't realized it, but Asmodeus… Well…

Asmodeus looked half-_dead_.

Ange felt a lump of worry rise up in her throat.

"Hey," she said softly, resting a hand on Asmodeus' shoulder. Her skin felt warm, even underneath that cardigan. "Are you… … okay…?"

Asmodeus gave a weak sniffle, and coughed in response- though she managed to cover it up with her hands.

When she drew them away, Ange realized just how red the stake's face had become. She was just like a strawberry. A strawberry with a runny nose and two cute pigtails.

"I'm… I-I… I-I'm f-fi-"

"If you say you're 'fine' again I'm going to spray you with the hose," said Ange sternly. "You're obviously sick. Why didn't you tell me before?"

Asmodeus sneezed miserably once more.

"I just… I don't want to be a burden…" she confessed quietly, wiping her running nose with the sleeve of her cardigan. She knew that wasn't very lady-like, but that old, ratty green thing was stained with dirt anyway, so she didn't think it would make much difference. "I know I'm the youngest, a-and everybody teases me, so I a… a… A-achoo!" Sniffing, Asmodeus wiped her nose again. "S-so I have to work h-hard, to make my sisters… respect me… S-so… I can't let sickness stop me… O-or they'll all treat me like a baby…!"

Ange frowned as she listened to Asmodeus' worries. The young stake acted so cheerful, regardless of what the other sisters sometimes said to her, so Ange had always assumed she was fine with it.

But maybe that was the wrong assumption to have.

Wasn't that what all her teachers back at St. Lucia had thought about _her_? Because she never cried in public, or showed signs of distress, they all thought she wasn't actually being bullied, so it wasn't their problem.

It was the same kind of thing.

Just because you couldn't see something, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

Without love, it couldn't be seen…

Ange looked at Asmodeus' flushed face with sympathy. Then, she sighed, pulling Asmodeus into a small hug.

Asmodeus' blinked in surprise. "A-ange…?"

"Oh geez…" Ange clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and rolled her eyes. "I've got a real dysfunctional family here, haven't I? Between Satan's anger issues, Leviathan's low self-esteem, Belphegor's incapability to ask for help, Beelzebub's desire to eat everything that will stay still long enough, Mammon's inability to share, Lucifer's easily injured pride and now _your_ apparent inferiority complex, I'm beginning to feel a little out of my depth here. I'm not a psychiatrist, you know."

Even though she felt utterly lousy, Asmodeus couldn't help but giggle a little/

…Too bad those giggles eventually dissolved into another fit painful coughs.

"Right. That's it," said Ange, helping Asmodeus to her feet. "You're going to take the rest of the day off, and however many more days you need until you're feeling better."

Asmodeus tried to protest weakly, but Ange remained unmoved.

"Even though I'm not a psychiatrist _or_ a doctor, I do know people need to rest when they get ill. And I'm going to do my best to look after you. That is a promise."

* * *

><p>Asmodeus was now safely tucked back up in bed, bundled up smug and warm amongst her numerous stuffed toys and pillows. Most of those stuffed toys were various birthday presents given to her by Gaap, and a couple had been bought for her by her sisters at one point or another. The weird looking pink… blobby… <em>thing<em> that might have been a rabbit- but, then again, it might have been an elephant- had been made by Beatrice, who was awful at sewing, but Asmodeus had accepted the sentiments behind the… _creature_… all the same. Besides, Asmodeus thought it was kind of cute! …Even if nobody else did.

The newest addition to Asmodeus' stuffed toy collection of the weird and weirder was a little yellow lion toy by Ange, which was the spitting image of Sakutaro.

Lost amidst all those old memories filled with nostalgia, with her hair loose once more and her favorite nightdress on, Asmodeus was beginning to feel just a little bit better.

Ange was seated on the bed beside her, a box of tissues in one hand and a thermometer in the other. She had just taken it out of Asmodeus' mouth, and was looking at it critically.

"That's one hundred degrees," Ange finally declared, placing the thermometer down on Asmodeus' bed side table.

Asmodeus looked at Ange nervously. "I-is that…" _Cough,__ cough. _"U-um, excuse me… ahaha…" Her voice was muffled, given she had placed her fingers over her mouth before she coughed. "B-bad…?"

"It's too high- but not unmanageable. I used to run high temperatures all the time when I was a kid, because I got sick easily, and I'm still alive," Ange explained, holding the box of tissues out for Asmodeus. "Stay here and rest, okay? I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow."

"Y-yeah… Tomorrow…" Asmodeus nodded. Then, she smiled. "T-thank you, Ange."

"No problem."

Ange got her feet, putting the box of tissues down beside the thermometer. Then, she turned to Asmodeus, and said, "…I hope you get well soon. Um…" Then, in broken English, "Have a dream…?"

And with that, she turned to leave.

She didn't notice the small blush that had spread across Asmodeus' cheeks.


	146. That sickening feeling, part 4

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #146: That sickening feeling, Part 4

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, Ange's words proved to be a little overly optimistic. The following day did not find Asmodeus feeling any healthier; it did not find her healthier at all.<p>

She had a pounding headache, and it felt like some giant, unseen hand had descended down from upon high and was squeezing her skull together until the two separate sides met together with a loud _crunch_. That was to say nothing of her joints, which all ached. This must have been how old ball-jointed dolls felt like when they hadn't been played with for a while. They'd get all stiff, impossible to move, and then the dolls would take on a look of perpetual rigor mortis.

Dolls that couldn't move were useless, weren't they?

After that, they got thrown away.

Asmodeus began to shiver- and, surprisingly enough, this wasn't related to her fever. Well- it was about 40% related to her fever; but the other 60% was based on fear.

W-what if Ange threw her away, too?

Of course, Asmodeus knew she was being ridiculous. Ange wouldn't throw her away; she wasn't that mean. Besides, humans weren't like dolls. Humans didn't shatter when you dropped them on the floor. At least, they didn't in _most _cases. Not unless they had osteogenesis imperfecta.

...Asmodeus really had to stop watching medical documentaries with Belphegor. Belphegor liked learning new things and she found those documentaries 'interesting', but- although she learnt some cool big words, and got to sound smart using them in front of her sisters- they only freaked Asmodeus out. That one episode about the calcified fetus inside that woman had been... u-urgh... W-well, Asmodeus didn't want to dwell on it further- but, ha, to think. She'd always thought pregnancy was romantic. The thought of being pregnant _forever_ was more like something from a horror movie, though.

Asmodeus' imagination was way too over-active for her to think about medical documentaries, or the possibility of her limbs becoming wooden ball-joints and getting thrown away. In the end, she really was the best at upsetting herself, regardless of what TV she was exposed to.

Asmodeus knew her thoughts were all messed up and out of control- just like a stack of paper that had been knocked over and not put back in the right order. However, she blamed that on her headache. Or the invisible, metaphorical hand that was squishing her skull.

It didn't help Asmodeus' frazzled mindset any that she had kept waking herself up in the middle of the night with the sound of her own coughing. Once she'd had to run to the bathroom for fear she was going to choke up a lung, or be seriously sick. She managed to run very, very quietly though, and hadn't woken up any of her sisters or Ange.

The young stake sniffed. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand a few times, before finally remembering the box of tissues Ange had left for her. She reached out towards them gratefully, with trembling fingers, but-

"O-oh no…"

-the box was empty.

H-how was that even possible? Hadn't the box been full yesterday? Had she really used that many tissues without realizing it?

Well, there was nothing else she could do. Asmodeus already felt disgusting, wiping her snot on her bare skin like that, and she didn't want to do it again. She hated being shameful like that.

It was simple.

She had to go and get some more tissues.

Plus, she hadn't had anything to eat since the day before last. She hadn't even had any breakfast yesterday because she'd overslept. Asmodeus wasn't really hungry. The thought of putting food in her stomach actually made her feel sick. However, she was a sensible girl (mostly), and knew she had to eat _something_, or she'd get even weaker. Then she'd be a bigger burden.

However, there was a flaw in this excellent plan- that flaw being that Asmodeus didn't think she could get up out of bed. She felt so _tired_, and she swore her limbs were actually _creaking_ as she pushed herself clumsily into a sitting position. She felt like an old gate that hadn't been oiled at the hinges. Some of her stuffed toys fell onto the floor at her awkward movements, but she couldn't bend down and pick them up.

It hurt too much.

Asmodeus pondered lying in bed and calling for Ange, but her throat was sore, and she couldn't shout loud enough. Besides, she was a Stake of Purgatory; it was her job to take care of Ange, not the other way around. She might have been the youngest, but she didn't want to act like an invalid.

In fact, being the youngest meant she had even greater reason to do her best. She had to prove all her sisters- especially Mammon- that she _could_take of herself. She wasn't going to drag them all.

Not this time.

She clenched her fists together in determination. Then, with minimum grace, the shaky, fluey mess of our main heroine managed, through sheer force of will, to lift her heavy carcass out of bed. More stuffed toys tumbled to the floor, and Asmodeus very nearly slipped on the strange… pink… thing… Beato had sloppily sewn, but she managed to regain her balance just in time.

The powers of resolve are an amazing thing. The smallest of creatures have the greatest strength. Look how teeny-tiny limpets are able to cling to the sides of treacherous rocks, in foul storms or high tides, without letting go. Asmodeus might have been the youngest sister, but she was desperate to prove herself, and it was with that incredible willpower the young girl was able to shuffle her way, inch by inch, from her bedroom to the top of the stairs.

Unfortunately, even some limpets can be peeled from rocks by particularly violent waves. Asmodeus' willpower was immense, but it couldn't overcome the sudden, dizzying headache she experienced at the top of the stairs.

To make a long story short, she fell.

It felt to Asmodeus as though she hit every single step on the way down. When her crumpled body finally came to a rest at the foot of the stairs, she was sure each inch of her flesh was covered in bruises, and every single bone in her body had been given a rough kick and a thump by the force of gravity and the hard edge of the stairs- maybe even two, for good measure.

Falling down the stairs wasn't something Asmodeus was unaccustomed to. She would often play games of tag around the house with Beelzebub and Mammon, and the end result on a few occasions had been a rough tumble down those perilous stairs so her face could meet the floor below. However, falling down the stairs when she was ill was about one thousand times _worse_than falling when she was well.

Asmodeus couldn't move. Once more, she felt like an old, ball-jointed doll; completely hopeless.

_I __swear, _she thought, _if __I__ survive __this __ordeal, __I__'__ll __definitely __play __with __Shinku __and __Hinaichigo __some __more!_

At least a few good things came out of her fall.

One- Asmodeus got to the ground floor of the house quicker.

Two- She managed to draw the attention of the others.

No doubt alerted by the loud 'bang!' of head meeting wooden floorboards, Lucifer- the ever mature, responsible big sister- instantly ran to the scene of the crime to investigate. She still had a piece of toast in her hand, and her hair was wet from only just taking a shower.

Somehow, Asmodeus got the feeling she'd witnessed that scene before.

The smell of the buttery, jammy toast in Lucifer's hands should have been enough to make Asmodeus salivate with hunger. However, all it really did was produce foul-tasting bile at the back of her throat.

"Asmodeus, what on earth are you doing on the floor?"

Asmodeus opened her mouth. Perhaps, if she had been quick on her feet like Mammon, she would've snapped back with an 'well, it's not like I _wanted_to fall down the stairs, is it?' If she had been polite and obedient like Belphegor, she would have said, 'I'm very sorry for troubling you, big sister.'

However, Asmodeus hadn't been planning on saying either of those things. Instead, she had- very, very feebly- only wanted to ask Lucifer if she could get Ange for her; and maybe, if she would be really kind, if she could take that piece of toast away before she was sick.

But she never got to ask that- and that final request was a little too late.

No words passed her lips.

Instead…

"A-aah… Asmodeus, are you alright? Asmodeus? I, um… … Ange…! Ange, please come here immediately!"

…Asmodeus was horribly, painfully sick, all over the floor.

Maybe, if she'd gotten vomit on Lucifer's bare feet, too, she could've said she meant to do it, put on a brave face and laughed about it with Mammon later. As it was, she was left feeling horribly embarrassed… and, strangely enough, a lot sicker than when she first started.


	147. That sickening feeling, part 5

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #147: That sickening feeling, Part 5

* * *

><p>"One hundred and three degrees… I guess this is a pretty persistent illness."<p>

To prove just how persistent her illness was exactly, Asmodeus began to cough the moment the thermometer was taken out from under her tongue. The timing of it was so perfect one almost had to wonder whether it had been done on cue.

Asmodeus' throat was already sore, and each new cough only irritated it more. It felt bits of flesh were being cleaved from her already red-raw throat.

This, of course, only made her cough even _more_.

Despite her pain and discomfort, however, Asmodeus still remembered to put her hands over her mouth. She might have been ill, but she was still a polite young lady. Her sisters might have treated her like a little kid, but that only made her more determined to prove them wrong.

When Asmodeus muffled her sneezes, she tried to emulate the grace and poise of Virgilia. Asmodeus really admired Beato's Teacher. She was so calm and relaxed with her long skirts, pretty hair and half-lidded eyes. Virgilia always held her hands to her mouth when she coughed, and she never trailed her sleeves on the floor when she did so, either, even though they were so long and ruffly.

But being ladylike wasn't the only reason Asmodeus was covering her coughs with her hands (yes, she used both- just to be on the safe side). There weren't any boys around anyways, so it wasn't like she could show off her amazingly polite manners and trigger a load of flags or perfect endings filled with hearts.

Asmodeus' concern arose from a different sort of love altogether.

The softer, gentler love of friendship.

"A-aah, um…" _Cough,__ cough. _"I'm sorry, A-ange, I'm really sorry!"

"What are you sorry for?"

"F-for coughing all the time…" _Cough_. "I-I… don't want to infect you…!"

Asmodeus refused to let Ange catch whatever she had.

She _refused_.

If a filthy germ so much as looked at Ange the wrong way, Asmodeus would stake it to death- she would, she swore she would!

Ange opened her mouth to retort- most likely with something along the lines of 'stop being stupid'- but… when she looked down at Asmodeus, she found she couldn't say anything so harsh. The young girl's face- no, not just her face, her neck, and hands, and fingers, all her skin- was white. She didn't even look human anymore. Instead, she looked like a cut-out from a piece of paper, or little ghost.

Given Asmodeus' fear of the occult and the supernatural, Ange wondered, with a small smile, whether she would scream if she saw her own reflection in a mirror.

Asmodeus was shivering. Her bones seemed to clink together, with the same sound made when one set a teacup down on a saucer. Her constant shivering made her look delicate, fragile; not at all like the strong Stake of Purgatory Ange knew she really was.

Asmodeus also seemed to have some trouble breathing. Her chest heaved up and down painfully, and every breath that came from her throat was accompanied by a rattling wheeze. When she tried to take in more air than her lungs would allow, breathing in heavily, this prompted another, painful-sounding series of coughs and splutters that left her even paler (if that was possible) than before.

The young stake only had the flu- but it looked as though she was _dying_.

She looked so small…

So frail…

So…

_No_.

Biting her lower lip, Ange tried to push this thought from her mind. Asmodeus wasn't going to die, of course not. Flu used to be pretty dangerous a few centuries ago, but now it was hardly anything life-threatening. Ange used to get every illness that went around when she was younger, and she was still fine. Depending on your definition of 'fine', of course- but all of Ange's scars had been left by cruel people, not illnesses.

Ange just wasn't used to having friends… so she was terrified at the thought of losing one of them.

That was why she had been sitting beside Asmodeus' bed for the past few days, praying for her to get better.

Asmodeus couldn't eat anything more solid than soup or yoghurt without being sick, so Ange had been making soups by hand in the kitchen and feeding them to Asmodeus with a spoon. Asmodeus had blushed a little at first and said she was fine, she could eat by herself, but Ange had insisted. Ange had been giving Asmodeus medicine at regular intervals, too. She pressed cold towels to her forehead when she was too hot, and gave her hot water bottles when she was too cold. When Asmodeus looked particularly bored or melancholy, with her runny nose and red eyes, Ange would talk to her, or play with her many, many stuffed toys to pass the time. When Asmodeus went to sleep, Ange would sit in the chair by her bed and wait, in case she needed something. She certainly didn't want a repeat of Asmodeus waking up alone, and falling down the stairs. When Ange had seen the crumpled, curled up form of Asmodeus on the bottom-most stepher heart had leapt into her mouth, and she'd worried Asmodeus had broken something, or was seriously injured.

Ange wasn't really used to worrying about people like this… and, although being worried wasn't entirely pleasant, it still left Ange with a warm feeling in her heart.

She had been alone for so much of her life… and now, she had people who would let her care for them; who relied on her; who depended upon her; who _liked_her.

Now, she had _friends._

And she was determined to treat them all the best she could.

If the medicine and the chicken soup didn't work, then Ange's pure strength of will surely would. If real life operated by anime and manga rules, Asmodeus would definitely be cured with the healing power of love.

But maybe Ange's love wasn't enough.

Asmodeus was very grateful, of course, but… a few people were missing.

The other stakes hadn't wanted to take care of her. They hadn't wanted anything to do with her. That wasn't because they were selfish or lazy (well… that might have been true in Mammon's case). It was because they didn't want to get sick by spending too much time in Asmodeus' company.

That was just common sense.

And yet, even so…

Asmodeus sniffed slightly. She began to rub her eyes with the back of her hands- but this only made them itch more, and Ange batted them away.

"What's wrong, Asmo? You're looking a little down."

"H-huh?"

Asmodeus blinked in surprise. She shocked that her emotions, which she always tried to hide, had fluttered across her face so openly… and she was shocked Ange had been able to interpret them, too.

Embarrassed, Asmodeus looked down at the floor. She couldn't look Ange in the eye. Fiddling with her hair, she muttered, "Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing…"

But Ange wasn't one to be easily swayed.

Ange was fairly intelligent, and rather good at gauging others' feelings, so she knew an offensive attack wouldn't work on Asmodeus. It would only make her clam up even more, and then Ange would never discover what was wrong. Asmodeus could be incredibly stubborn sometimes. Memories from earlier, when she insistently tried to keep gardening despite her high fever, came to mind…

With this knowledge at hand, Ange tried to go for a more tactical approach.

So she sighed, and placed a hand at her temple. It was the same thing her Aunt Natsuhi used to do every time she had a splitting headache. Ange couldn't remember all that much about her Aunt Natsuhi, but her frequent headaches were the one idiosyncrasy about her character that had really stuck out. Maybe that was because Ange had been a frail child, so as a young girl she sympathized with her aunt, who always looked so worn and pale.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk… but I would have thought, after all I've done to help you, you would at least open your heart up to me just a little. Maybe you still can't trust me after all… No matter what I do, I guess you can never rely on me as a big sister… And… Maybe that's only to be expected."

"N-no, Ange… I do rely on you! I-I do… value your company…"

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"A-aaah, I… um…"

Asmodeus, being a sweet girl, couldn't help but be hit with Ange's words. Hard.

W-was she making Ange worry even more by not confiding in her? Asmodeus thought she was being considerate, mature, ladylike, not forcing her worries onto others… but maybe it was childish to think she had to everything by herself after all! Was she actually being selfish and thoughtless?

W-why was everything so confusing?

"B-but I'm just being silly- really, Ange! "It's fine, it's nothing- I-I don't want to bother you!"

"Your worries aren't silly- and you're not a bother," said Ange firmly, taking hold of one of Asmodeus' hands. "Tell me. Please. Otherwise, I can't make it any better."

Asmodeus' face turned light pink. She looked down at her lap shyly.

There was a small silence.

Then, she opened her mouth…

"Well, I… I… S-sometimes…" Asmodeus paused to draw breath. She wheezed terribly, and Ange worried she was going to choke, though she seemed fine. "S-sometimes, I just wish… my big sisters would try and take care of me, too… I-I know I say I want to be treated like an adult, a-and I know, if I'm sick, they should stay away from me so they don't get ill too… S-so it's selfish, wanting them to stick around. A-and immature. B-but, all the same... I still want… I… I… …"

Asmodeus sniffed. Her vision of Ange suddenly went all blurry, as though she were looking at the young girl through a pond. A wet dampness slowly began to trickle down her cheeks.

H-huh…

N-no way!

Was she crying?

H-how babyish…

But Asmodeus didn't have enough time to apologize. She was still talking- and she had gone so far, she couldn't go back now.

"… …S-sometimes… S-sometimes I feel like my big sisters don't love me… … because I'm weak. A-and useless… A-and… they don't care… … … A-and maybe, if they think that, they're right, b-because I always cry! I-isn't that pathetic?"

Despite her best attempts to remain unflustered, just like Virgilia, Asmodeus found herself talking like the child she had never wanted to be. Her words tumbled out of her mouth in a mess of emotion, and they sounded so unrefined she winced.

But… Ange's expression didn't even falter.

And she never let go of Asmodeus' hand.

Really, when Asmodeus thought about it… didn't people like Virgilia get embarrassed and nervous from time to time, too? That wasn't related to being 'mature' or an 'adult'; that was about being a person with _emotions_.

Ange looked at Asmodeus sadly, a small frown on her face. But it wasn't a frown of anger, or disappointment, or impatience.

It was… melancholic.

Understanding.

Truly caring.

"…Don't cry, Asmo. Your sisters love you very much."

"B-but Ange, listen-"

But Ange didn't let her finish. She had too much to say to bite it back. "No, _you_ listen. _I_know what it's like to be unwanted and uncared for. I felt like that back at St. Lucia's all the time; _all__ the __time_. But you should never have to feel the way I did… because your sisters **do **love you. They love you very much. Lucifer told the others not to fuss over you because you always ask them to treat you like an adult. She thought, if they all worried, it might hurt your feelings."

There was a small silence, broken only by Asmodeus sniffing; blinking at Ange through her tears.

She blinked again and again and again.

At least, until she stopped.

And stared.

When Asmodeus next spoke, her voice was softly incredulous, as though she had just discovered a fairy at the bottom of her garden.

"R-really…?"

Ange nodded.

"It's true. So don't cry. You really have no reason to. Your sisters all care about you, even if they have funny ways of showing it… And I love you, too. And, for as long as you need me… I won't leave your side." Ange smiled warmly. "Even if Beelzebub eats everything in the kitchen, or Levia tries to give herself a facelift with a kitchen knife… if you don't want me to, I won't budge. Because even adults need other people too sometimes, right…?"

Asmodeus giggled softly at Ange's words… though she still hardly dared to believe them.

But, if she didn't believe those words… then she at least believed in the warm hug Ange gave her.

"H-hey, Ange… You can't do that! You'll get sick, too!"

"Don't care. Doesn't matter. You're more important, anyway."

And, for the first time in her shoved-aside life of being the youngest sister who got in everyone's way and just wasn't good enough, Asmodeus felt that maybe, just maybe… that could be true.

Maybe she didn't have to try so hard to become an adult after all. Even adults who got sick needed help, right...? And, in the end… Asmodeus liked being a young kid.

She liked having her hair in pigtails.

She liked daydreaming about her innocent, perfect, fairytale romance.

She liked playing around with her stuffed toys; her numerous plushies, her ball-jointed dolls, and even the weird pink blobby _thing_Beato had made.

And, most of all… she liked Ange fussing over her.

She liked that a lot.


	148. That sickening feeling, extra

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #148: That sickening feeling, Extra

* * *

><p><em>Die!<em>

_Die!_

_Die!_

Mammon glared, slamming her trowel into the soil. She slammed it over and over again. Bits of dirt went flying everywhere, showering through the air like motes of dust.

Every time she hit the earth with the trowel she repeated that same word inside her head, with enough venom to eat through granite;

_Why don't you just die?_

Hahaha~ If she kept thinking things like that, maybe she'd launch into a 'death is the great equalizer' speech, and then she'd turn into Dlanor A. Knox.

…Actually, that would be pretty cool. Having a huge red sword was much more awesome than being able to turn into a teeny-tiny ornamental stake. People took swords seriously.

Plus, Dlanor was really, really short and tiny and adorable and cute~

Huh… Maybe, if _she _was tiny and adorable and cute, just like _that_annoying pest with the pigtails who monopolized Ange's attention, then Ange would like her more.

Mammon glared.

W-why wasn't Ange sat by _her_side, laughing and talking with _her_? Weren't they friends? Wasn't she Ange's _first_friend, even? Didn't that make her more important than all of her sisters?

So why was Ange spending so much time with Asmodeus?

Stupid… It was all stupid!

Mammon was too emotional to get any gardening done properly. She could only sulk; balling her fingers into fists so tightly it hurt.

But a small voice- or sound, to be more precise- soon drew her out of her black mood.

"_Meow~__"_

"Eh?"

Mammon looked down at the ground, where the soil was unevenly strewn about and raised in molehill-like bumps because of her clumsy attempts at 'gardening'… which was actually more like 'mass destruction', to be honest. Aahaha. If Ange saw what Mammon had done to the garden, she wouldn't be very happy. And that was an understatement.

But Mammon was too focused on her new friend to care.

There, rubbing its head against Mammon's thigh, as though it wanted to be her friend- as though it understood how sad she felt, and wanted to comfort her… was a fluffy black cat.

Mammon blinked in surprise as the cute kitty continued to pad and paw at her leg. Was it possible that it was really trying to cheer her up?

It was true that Ange's relationship with Asmodeus had left Mammon feeling betrayed; almost as if she was an old toy that had been thrown away for a shiny new one. This pain showed clearly on Mammon's face. She was always honest with her feelings, so it was easy to read her, just like a book. Anybody would have spotted the black cloud of misery that hovered over her head, even from a mile away.

But to think, a _cat_ had managed to notice that? A cat had seen how sad she was even before Ange had?

T-that was a little embarrassing, and kind of depressing.

Mammon sighed, stroking the cute kitty behind the ears. It mewed happily and rolled onto its back, letting her tickle its tummy. Mammon couldn't help but smile at that.

At least _somebody_ wanted her, even if Ange didn't.

Mammon remembered that Ange used to need her, too…

But not anymore.

Not now she could summon all the other sisters at will- and they were much nicer, prettier, more obedient, and more mature than Mammon was.

Maybe it was only natural Ange would like Asmodeus more.

Without realizing it, Mammon's petting became harder and harder, until she was actually hurting the poor cat that had unwittingly subjected itself to the brunt of her temper.

"Oi, Mammon! Stop playing with the neighbours' cat and get some work done already!"

Mammon felt her heart flutter at the sound of Ange's voice. So, even though Ange had been busy watching over Asmodeus, she still had time to worry about her, too?

No…

Ange wasn't worried about her. She was _annoyed_. She was annoyed because Mammon wasn't doing the gardening properly. That was it. That wasn't friendship; and Ange wasn't looking at her in the same way she looked at Asmodeus…

Forcing herself to be cheerful, Mammon called back, "But I just want to hold her, Ange!~ It's so cute and fluffy and adorable, it's not like she'll be dangerous or any-"

But the cat had finally had enough of Mammon's too-hard strokes. It must have been annoyed its reward for comforting a lonely young girl was to be stroked so firmly it felt like its skin would peel off. That was why it decided to take its revenge.

"Oww!"

Mammon should have seen it coming, really. And Ange already had.

"A-ange…" Mammon turned to look at Ange, hoping to get some sympathy. With crocodile tears welling up in her eyes (she could be just as cute as Asmodeus if she tried!), Mammon said, cradling her right hand, "I-it bit me…"

Ange sighed, her face meeting her palm with a light _thud._

Mammon couldn't hear her, but she knew what Ange was saying.

_Good grief._

* * *

><p>"You really should be more careful, you know. You're not a child," said Ange sternly.<p>

Her voice was accompanied by the sound of rushing water and a soft _zaaa_as those droplets hit the basin of the sink.

Mammon winced slightly as Ange ran her bitten finger under the torrent of cold water. It wasn't a deep cut, but it still stung a little. But Mammon would gladly endure any pain to have a moment together like this was Ange.

She could have patched up that bite herself easily. It wasn't even a deep cut. But Mammon let Ange baby her all the same. She didn't get embarrassed when Ange was nice to her, and she didn't try to push Ange's kindness away. She was more honest with her feelings than her other sisters, who had taken months before they stopped calling Ange 'Milady'.

Mammon had only ever thought of Ange as a friend.

"Hehe~" Mammon giggled, gently butting her head against Ange's side. "But you like it when I misbehave rea~lly~ It triggers that really cute, maternal side of your character, doesn't it? Then you get all mature, and you have an excuse to scold me and assert your authority. I know you're enjoying yourself really~ Hehehe~"

"Sure, sure, think what you want to think. I'd rather I didn't have to do this, though. You're holding me up."

"Aww, c'mon. You know this isn't a serious injury. You just like being a doting mother~ Not that I'm complaining. I think it's adorable! I'm lucky to have such a nice friend!"

Ange's face flushed light pink. Mammon was the only one able to tease her like that and get under her skin… … and yet, at the same time, she was the only one who really understand her feelings, and tried to comfort her.

Maybe that was why Ange found it easier to confide in Mammon, as she found herself doing right then.

"Well… I like looking after people. Nobody ever looked after me when I was younger, so I know how it feels when people… don't care… about you…" Ange's voice trailed away and became bitter, sad, lost in those miserable memories she tried so hard to repress.

Mammon's eyes softened with concern.

"Aww. That sucks, Ange! How could anybody not like you?"

"Mm. I do wonder… But that's in the past now."

"Yep, it's in the past! Don't worry. You've got me now, okay?"

Ange rolled her eyes. "Urgh. That means I have more headaches to look forward to."

"That's right!" Mammon smiled brightly. "But, Ange!"

"What?"

"Make sure, even if you're looking after the other sisters… that you still make some time for me. Or I'll get jealous. And really, really lonely."

Ange raised a brow "You get jealous? Isn't that Leviathan's job?"

"Yeah, but… I don't want to share you with anyone! I'm being really nice, you see, forcing myself not to get too sad when you spend time with the others… I'm trying to be mature, too! But, just because I'm not complaining about it, it doesn't mean I'm not worrying about it! I'm a really needy, high-maintenance girl too, Ange! My sisters aren't the only ones with problems! So…" Mammon blinked up at Ange winsomely, looking up under her eyelashes. "Don't ignore me for too long. Or I might cry."

Ange blinked at Mammon for a few moments, unsure whether to be surprised, amused or... strangely flattered.

"You care about my company_ that_ much?"

Mammon nodded forcefully, in a way that invited no questions about her real feelings.

"Well… I'm glad you always tell me when you have a problem..."

"That's because we're friends and I trust you~"

Ange's cheeks, which were already light pink, turned a slightly deeper shade of red. Mammon cackled to herself at such an adorable sight. That blush, coupled with her red hair, made Ange look like she was on fire~

Ange frowned, rolling unspoken words around her head for a few moments. She wasn't sure what to say- but, finally, one word did manage to escape.

"But…"

Mammon tipped her head to one side. "Buuut?"

"But…" Ange smiled with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to say that- but now she'd opened her mouth, she had to keep talking.

She scolded the other stakes for hiding their feelings… so she would have been a hypocrite to mask hers'.

"You're being silly to worry, Mammon. You were my first friend, after all. So… S-so I could never ignore you, even if I wanted to. Don't be paranoid. I still… cherish your company… y-you know…"

Mammon spent the rest of the day smiling. Even when Ange was looking after Asmodeus, who'd stupidly gotten sick because she was _stupid_, Mammon was still happy.

She was happy because she was Ange's first friend, and nobody would be able to change that.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** And this ends this 'arc'… This last part wasn't requested at all, but I got this idea when I randomly wrote that scene of Mammon being bitten earlier, and I love Mammon ^_^~  
>Anyway, I hope you liked it :3<p>

There are quite a few fics in there about the stakes, actually... I wonder if there are any other unloved characters in this collection people want me to write some stuff about? Any suggestions?

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	149. Love, Beelzebub

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #149: Love, Beelzebub

* * *

><p>Dear Ronove,<p>

I hate you.

Love, Beelzebub

* * *

><p>Dear Miss Beelzebub,<p>

I'm terribly to hear that. What did I do to deserve your ire? Moreover, why did you feel the need to handwrite that note and pin it to the refrigerator? Is there something preventing you from communicating with me verbally? If you have toothache again, I could prepare you some hot water and lemon.

~Ronove

* * *

><p>Ronove,<p>

If you don't know why I hate you then you're stupid! I don't have toothache, okay, idiot! And that hot water and lemon you gave me last time did **nothing**.

I'm writing these letters because I don't want to talk to you in person, so THERE. Do you understand how angry I am now? I mean, I'm cute and lovable and I don't give the cold shoulder to anyone- BUT I'M DOING IT TO YOU RIGHT NOW. HA HA.

Feel bad.

I hope you cry yourself to sleep at night.

~Beelze

* * *

><p>Miss Beelzebub,<p>

You say you don't desire to talk to me, but even though it is not via verbal means, we are still communicating with each other. I'm sorry to tell you this, but I don't think writing notes back and forth constitutes as you giving me 'the cold shoulder'. Maybe we could call it the 'lukewarm shoulder' instead?

At any rate, your handwriting is a little too… 'unique'… for me to read properly. If I keep trying to decipher it I'm afraid I might get a headache. I know you get bad tempered when you have toothaches, but can we please talk to one another face to face, like adults?

~Ronove

* * *

><p>IDIOT! I don't HAVE a toothache, I'm just hungry, and you won't let me have anything to eat! Don't you remember you sin? You wouldn't me have ANY of those cookies you made a few days back, but you gave some to Mammon and Asmodeus and Levia and ALL THE OTHERS BUT ME!<p>

You know what that's called?

That's called BULLYING.

I THOUGHT I COULD TRUST YOU. You were my best friiiiend ;A; And then you HURT MY FEELINGS. You tore my maidenly heart from my chest and IMPALED IT with your MEAN-NESS. You were my ally and you betraaaaayed me! SEE THE RAGE IN MY WORDS?

Why don't you go die in a fire? Then maybe I would be happy! Gyahahahahahihihi etc etc.

Oh, and don't pick on my handwriting! My handwriting is cute and lovely and perfect (LIKE ME) so don't bully me! I don't make fun of your mustache, do I?

* * *

><p>I assume that is because there's nothing wrong with my mustache, pu ku ku~<p>

More importantly... could you please stop shouting at me?

* * *

><p>I'm not shouting, I can't be, it's all written word, stuuuupid.<p>

* * *

><p>Yes, but the excessive amounts of exclamation points and capitalized letters make your notes sound rather hostile.<p>

You should be aware I only have your best interests at heart, Miss Beelzebub. I've observed that you look quite pained for a few days, and you have been talking less and less, so I could only deduce you're suffering from a toothache again. That is why I'm being stricter than usual when it comes to your food. I certainly had no desire to 'bully' you; I was trying to be considerate.

I know your magic is mostly focused on attacking and, er… 'gouging', so you're not very good at healing yourself when you get toothaches like this. If you spoke to me, I could try and help you. Then, you could eat delicious sugar cookies to your heart's content. Oh, and as per a request from Gaap, I'm going to make some baklava… so you could have a slice of that, if you wanted.

But that's not going to happen until we get your toothache sorted out.

~Ronove

* * *

><p>E-EEHHH?<p>

*blink blink*

You're making baklava?

Really?

* * *

><p>Would I lie to you?<p>

* * *

><p>…Well, that changes everything.<p>

U-um, yeah...

My teeth do hurt pretty bad, come to think of it…

Can you help me… please… …?

I-I just don't like asking you for help all the time, it's embarassing...

/ / / o_o / / /

From, Beelze  
>xxx<p>

* * *

><p>Miss Beelzebub,<p>

Oh, I even get kisses now? The tone of your letters really has changed! I feel flattered *laughs*

Anyway, it would be my pleasure to help you. I'll prepare the hot water and lemon at once. It might take a while for the magic to take effect, but when it does there'll be a slice of baklava waiting for you, and maybe some tea, too.

Next time you have a problem, perhaps it would be more prudent to tell me instead of waiting for it to get worse. I _do_ care about you, you know.

~Ronove  
>I would return those kisses, but it might be inappropriate- though I appreciate them all the same, pu ku ku~<p>

* * *

><p>Haha, yeah… um… sure thing…<p>

Thank you… ^_^;;

I'm sorry for being silly! I was just running low on sugar, and it put in a bad mood, and then I was in a looooot of pain on top of that so, I don't know… I'm sorry I snapped at you! I love you really!~ You and your cake and cookies!~~ It's easier to take my rage out on you than my ~lovely sisters~ 'cause you're not mean to me like they are, hehehe :3 If I shouted at Satan she would **break me**.

So thank you for being so understanding!~

*giggle*giggle* And I don't think returning those kisses would be inappropriate 'cause we've known each other for aaaages~ But if you want to be stingy with your love, I'll just give you enough kisses for two people!

Love, Beelzebub  
>xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoxxx<p> 


	150. EXTRA: Popular

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #150: Popular

* * *

><p>"Uwaaaaaaah! Lia, Lia, guess whaaat! Something really terrible happened! It's so annoying and it's just not fair! I-I think my pure, maidenly heart is going to break into pieces! Uwaaaaaaah!"<p>

But Virgilia didn't even have enough time to ask what, exactly, was wrong, or whose pure maidenly heart was broken into pieces. She didn't even have enough time to process what was happening to her.

One second, she had been enjoying a nice cup of tea, and the next… she suddenly had a faceful of Gaap.

The blonde portal demon crashed against Virgilia with the destructive force of a tidal wave. A tidal wave of blonde curls and inappropriate clothes, that is. Arms winding forcefully round Vigilia's waist, burying her head against the poor woman's chest, it was a small wonder Virgilia's chair hadn't tipped over backwards at this onslaught and her head hadn't smacked against the floor.

After all those years, she must've gotten used to Gaap's bone-crushing hugs, excessive love of skinship and horrific idea of 'friendship'. She was practically immune to it now.

Well…

Almost.

It was a mark of how good Virgilia was at dealing with Gaap that she hadn't even spilt a single drop of her tea. Neither had she opened her eyes.

"Lia! Lia, it's not fair! Life's so cruel! Comfort me, comfort me! Uwaaaaah!"

Virgilia sighed.

_Honestly_.

For a rather cheerful person, Gaap could be incredibly melodramatic when she wanted to be. And she was so _noisy_, too.

Then again… Virgilia was loath to admit it, but life probably would have been quite boring without Gaap.

"What's wrong?" asked Virgilia, looking down at the top of Gaap's head. "Did Beato say mean things to you again?"

Voice muffled by Virgilia's chest, Gaap muttered, "N-no, it wasn't even that… I-it's way worse!"

By now, Virgilia was actually beginning to become concerned. She couldn't help but worry about Gaap, even if her idea of an 'emergency' was breaking a fingernail. It was just in Virgilia's nature to worry- even about people who didn't particularly need to be worried over.

But, the awkward placement of Gaap's head was beginning to make her blush…

"H-hey, um… Y-you should probably… move…" said Virgilia, stuttering slightly. "Your face is… um… P-please just move it, please."

"Huh? But you're all sooft and squishy here, Liaaa~"

Virgilia's face turned bright red. "G-gaap!"

"Hehe~ Oh, you're so modest."

"W-well, we're not all like you!"

"…Touché."

Giggling, Gaap drew away from Virgilia. At least her crocodile tears had all cleared up, and she wasn't getting her tears all down Virgilia's cleavage.

"So, was there anything wrong?" asked Virgilia, folding her arms and trying to quell her violent blush, "Or were you just being silly?"

"Well, um… I am pretty annoyed, I guess- although that hug did make me feel a little better."

"What are you annoyed about?"

There was a small pause.

Then, Gaap clenched a hand into a fist, and held it aloft above her head. If real life had suddenly merged with cartoon logic, fire would have sparked in Gaap's eyes, and it would have burned behind her in the background. An anger mark would've appeared on her head, too.

Lots and lots of them.

A whole **swarm**.

"It's not fair! Did you know they're gonna release _Ougon __Musou __Kyoku __Cross _this Winter Comiket, Lia, and I'm **still** not a playable character! I'm still just a freakin' _background __sprite_!"

Virgilia blinked at Gaap in confusion, head tilted to one side.

"…Pardon?"

But her small question fell on deaf ears. Gaap was too busy ranting to listen. She was getting into the same agitated state Beelzebub did when somebody brought up the taboo subject of tomatoes (why she hated them so much was anybody's guess).

"Isn't that unfair? Isn't that mean? You think so, right, Lia? I mean, _Ougon__ Musou __Kyoku _is a **fighting**** game**, so I'm definitely the sort of character who would fit in on the roster! I'd fit way more than YOU, with your stupid broomsticks and magical daggers because I don't mess around with girly magic, I actually go up to people and kick them in the face! I mean, I can manipulate portals, and I can kick people with my _awesome_shoes, and I'm really, really cute, too! But they put you in the game right from the start, and then they go and put stupid human characters in like George and Jessica! Nobody likes George! Yeah, he can kick things, but he can't make **portals**. I'm awesome, aren't I? Everybody would love to play as me, wouldn't they? I wanna be in some cute CG endings too! But I've been waiting for a year, and I thought maybe I was gonna be a 'fashionably late' addition to the game, but they STILL hadn't added me in and I bet they never will! I think Ryukishi hates me! Everybody hates me just because I looked like a man crossed with Shirley Temple in my original art! It's not fair! It's not my fault I'm so gawgus Ryukishi couldn't capture my beauty properly! I think Battler kind of looked like a horse in his original art, but he got top billing in the game- and they even put him in TWICE, but with a recolored suit! That's overkill! It pisses me off!"

Virgilia watched as Gaap wailed herself hoarse, hands on her hips, stamping her feet on the floor. She sympathized with Gaap, and if she could have done, she would willingly have switched her character with Gaap's. Virgilia didn't particularly enjoy fighting (couldn't enemies resolve their differences over tea, exchanging pleasant words instead of blows?), so she had never been too interested in being placed in a fighting game to begin with. However, there wasn't much she could do about it.

"I know you're upset about that, and I do understand… but…" Virgilia tried to say it tactfully- but there was no way to say something like that in a kind manner, even from the mouth of somebody as caring as Virgilia. In fact, giving Virgilia's caring nature, the cold, hard truth actually hurt more. "I don't think you'll be added to the game because you didn't place very highly on the last popularity poll, did you?"

There was a long silence.

Then, Gaap collapsed onto a spare seat, as though she had been shot. Her head fell against the tabletop with a loud _thump_.

"Urgh, Lia, don't remind me about _that_… I still can't believe I placed even lower than _Gohda_."

Another pause.

Then, Virgilia said, smiling lightly, "Well… His _is_ the Magical Gohda Chef."

Gaap glared.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p><strong>an:**I don't know if everybody knows, but _Ougon __Musou __Kyoku _is that official Umineko fighting game… and I totally suck at it, but that's beside the point XD The expansion for it is coming out in December, with new characters and the like, and still Gaap hasn't been added. I was kind of disappointed XD I wanted to play as Gaap.  
>The official popularity poll I speak of is here:<br>http : / / when-they-cry . net /Cgi/vote/umi8/vote_end . html  
>&amp; it's pretty interesting XD But Gaap placed like… right at the bottom XD So her chances of getting included now are probably about 0.<p>

I put this fic as an extra cause, like the other extras, the fourth wall disintegrates entirely XD

**~renahhchen****xoxo**


	151. Wash my blood

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #151: Wash my blood

* * *

><p>Dlanor A. Knox was seated in Gertrude's cluttered kitchen, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Even though the mug was scalding hot Dlanor barely felt it. Her fingertips were numb from gripping her red sword earlier, and the adrenalin had yet to leave her body.<p>

Dlanor wasn't attired in her usual priest garb. Instead, she wore a plain black shirt. Her more 'professional' clothes were rolling round in Gertrude's washing machine, to get rid of the blood they'd been splattered with during the precious inquisition.

That was why Dlanor was at Gertrude's house. Although her prowess at dispatching heretics with her red sword and red truth was unmatched, she wasn't very good at household chores- and trying to remove blood from her clothes was such a pain. Dlanor was, after all, only a child. A lonely child, without any parents to look after her. It was a good job she had a motherly figure like Gertrude to look out for her, or she would never eat enough vegetables, or have clean clothes to wear.

"Do you think you could be a bit more careful with your investigations next time, Dlanor?" asked Gertrude, her voice gently rebuking. "Your clothes always get so dirty…"

"I'm just a KID," said Dlanor, voice emotionless. Her fingers still couldn't feel the warm mug they were curled around. Maybe the hot chocolate had gone cold? "I can't control myself when I'm in the middle of an INVESTIGATION. Dirtying my attire is the last thing on my mind when I am trying to uphold the honour of Konx in the face of witches and DEMONS."

"I see…" said Gertrude quietly.

There was a small pause. The whir of the washing machine could be heard in the background; a soft hum.

Then- "Gertrude…?"

"Yes?"

Dlanor shifted slightly in her seat. This reluctance was unusual for the Archbishop Knox, who never faltered when she dealt out justice to heretics. The mere idea of Dlanor hesitating was almost heresy in itself. And yet… it looked as though there was something weighting heavily on Dlanor's mind.

"Gertrude…"

"Yes?"

"… …Am I a bad PERSON?"

"Hmn?" Gertrude faltered, a little surprised by this question. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, when I hunt witches and demons, it feels like a GAME. It feels fun and exciting- and sometimes I forget they have feelings at ALL." Dlanor paused. She did not blink, and there was a haunting kind of intensity in her yellow eyes. "But the witch I cornered today did not look EVIL. She seemed more like a young girl who made a MISTAKE. And when I killed her she SCREAMED. There was blood EVERYWHERE. It made me think maybe witches and demons aren't quite as evil as they APPEAR."

Dlanor paused. She looked down at her still untouched cup of hot coca. The brown liquid swirled around in an almost hypnotizing manner.

"… …Perhaps, to them, I am the one who appears EVIL. But… I'm just doing my JOB."

Gertrude sighed, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. She… had no idea how to address that problem.

She… didn't know.

Dlanor had never spoken to her like that before.

Generally, when Dlanor was dispirited, a mug of hot coca was enough to soothe her worries- but Dlanor hadn't even touched her drink. Chocolate probably wouldn't be enough to cheer her up today.

"Let it be known that you're not a bad person," said Gertrude, after a moment of thought. "Neither am I- or any other members of Eiserne Jungfrau. If we did not exist to police thoughtless witches and demons, countless humans could lose their lives. Magic is meant to help others, after all, not harm them. Witches need people to discipline them- and, whilst their fates may be seen as tragic, we are working for the greater good."

"The… greater GOOD…" Dlanor repeated to herself slowly. "Is that IT?"

"I believe so, yes. Otherwise, I would not have become a member of Eiserne Jungfrau in the first place. It was because I wanted to help people.

"You want to help EVERYONE."

Gertrude thought about the multiple cats that lived in her house, that she really couldn't support but didn't have the heart to give away. Maybe Dlanor was right.

The atmosphere in the kitchen remained rather heavy after that conversation. Dlanor did not say anything else- but neither did she drink her hot coca. Gertrude didn't talk, either. There wasn't much to talk about.

Gertrude wasn't sure if Dlanor understood her reasoning. Dlanor was incredibly intelligent when it came to solving mysteries- but with human emotion, she possessed the same levels of understanding as a young child. Maybe not even that.

This was something Gertrude couldn't explain to Dlanor. Dlanor would come to her own conclusions on life when she grew a little older. The fact Dlanor was beginning to question her own morals- which, before, had been set in stone, unshakable- was proof she was becoming more mature.

For now, however… all they could do was wait.

In the background, the whir of the washing machine ground to a halt… and silence shortly followed.


	152. Bonds

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #152: Bonds

* * *

><p>"Thank you for talking to me, Professor Otsuki," said Ange politely, bowing her head.<p>

Otsuki, a middle aged man with a lined face and a cheerful countenance, only smiled.

"You don't need to thank me. It's a pleasure to hear that youngsters like you are interested in the activities of the Rokkenjima Witch Hunt. A lot of people don't lend our theory any credence… and if my students knew I subscribed to this theory they'd probably laugh at me, hahaha. Just like the witch cult explanations of 16th century witch trials are looked upon with scorn, we are as well… People can be so judgemental about things like this. That's probably why the media vilifies Ushiromiya Kinzo as an old fool for his interest in the occult, instead of the esteemed historian I would perceive him as."

Ange nodded slowly, pondering Otsuki's words slowly.

Her potage, which smelt delicious, was beginning to grow cold. She hadn't even broken the surface of it with her spoon yet. Neither did she plan to. None of that delicious-smelling food had passed her lips. It was a waste, given how expensive it was, but it wasn't like Ange had any shortage of money. She could eat food anytime- and that wasn't why she had met Otsuki in the first place.

She was much, much more interested in his interpretation of the Rokkenjima murders than chewing on the expensive potage like a cow with its cud. Amakusa would surely chide her in that light-hearted way of his for throwing money around unnecessarily when, but Ange didn't care.

She wanted to learn more.

What was the name of Otsuki's group?

The Rokkenjima Witch Hunt, was it…?

…Ridiculous.

Ange couldn't believe such a foolish theory; not when, in her own heart, she was sure the culprit must have been Eva. It made sense. Why had Eva survived to inherit the gold of the Ushiromiya family, whilst everybody else died?

It was simple.

A witch wasn't needed. Beatrice wasn't needed. These Rokkenjima Witch Hunters weren't needed.

But… to discover the truth- the _real_ truth- you couldn't devote your heart to one theory and ignore all others. That was why there were multiple historians with multiple viewpoints on interesting topics throughout history; the Meiji Restoration, the French Revolution- and, yes, even the original witch hunts in the 16th century. It was impossible to describe all these events with only one chain of reasoning or one key suspect, so there were hundreds of theories. The truth probably incorporated little bits of each theory.

Even though it was a small scale event, the truth must have hidden in multiple theories from multiple minds in the Rokkenjima murders, too.

Ange hadn't been looking at the situation objectively, because of her own involvement in it, and because of her hatred for the woman who had ruined her life. She was desperate to pin Eva as the culprit. But, if she blindly accepted the 'Eva is the culprit' theory as the truth she couldn't evaluate any other truths, so the real truth may have remained buried.

Ange was trying her best.

She was trying to open her eyes.

The truth… was different for everybody. So, whilst some people thought Kinzo was a fool immersed with a weird and sick hobby, other people like Otsuki thought he was a great intellectual.

Ange didn't know what she felt about Kinzo. She'd last seen him when she was about four, and she couldn't remember that far back. But she could compare Otsuki's talk of Kinzo to Maria's situation documented in her diary.

Ange had always believed Maria must have been sad and miserable because she was left at home by her careless mother. However, to Maria, the times she was left alone weren't lonely at all. They were fun sleepovers with Sakutarou, where they would mix together weird combinations of drinks and eat candy until way past her bedtime.

Was it… the same thing that Okonogi said?

Without love, it cannot be seen?

If you had love for a subject, as Otsuki loved the occult and Maria loved her mother… then you saw everything in a more favourable light, and you were happy.

Ange didn't know. It was a difficult concept for a harsh, frank girl like her to comprehend- but she thought, when she looked at Otsuki's enthusiasm regarding the occult… she might understand it, just a little.

Of course, she hated that this man was treating the death of her family like a fun mystery novel or a scary story about a witch. It was sickening. Disgusting. But… he was only chatting about something he found interesting- and he was glad he was able to share that interest with somebody else. He wasn't trying to be disrespectful.

Ange couldn't see any malevolence in his face.

"You know, I couldn't help but feel really popular when you phoned me about a private meeting, ahaha~ People like me who enjoy talking about a certain subject are always happy when they meet others who share their same enthusiasm. Isn't that what fosters bonds between others? But I might be getting a little ahead of myself, ahaha."

"Professor," Ange interjected, "May I ask you another question?"

"Of course, of course. I'd be more than happy to. What would you like to know?"

There was a small silence. Ange looked down at her uneaten food, pondering. She had been so set on her interpretation of the truth she never bothered to hear anybody else's… and she never stopped to think what the reasoning behind these other interpretations were, either. Maybe it would be fair to say she had been thinking about the murder case in a very selfish way.

But wasn't it easier to solve a mystery if lots of people sat down together and talked it over?

Although the deaths of her family, her parents, and her beloved big brother were personal things to Ange… she couldn't be selfish anymore. She had to listen to other people's truths, and not just her own.

She had to try and trust people. She'd never get anywhere floundering around on her own. Okonogi. Amakusa. And maybe… this guy, too.

Maybe Otsuki could help.

And so, for the first time in a long, long while, Ange opened up her heart… and tried to think from somebody else's perspective. In other words, she tried to stop being selfish.

"Why do you believe a witch committed the murders? Why do you believe in the occult?" asked Ange.

Otsuki smiled again; looking more and more like a kindly parent figure. "Ahaha, well… I don't know if I 'believe' in witchcraft. It's just an interesting idea, and it's fun to talk about it with other people. It brings us enthusiasts together; just like a sort of festival. Although discussing a serial murder like that might be considered disrespectful towards the dead… I think it's actually far more disrespectful to try and pin Ushiromiya Eva as the culprit. It's far kinder not suspecting any human culprit, and blaming a naughty witch instead! I think the media would disagree with me, though… but blaming the crime on a witch wouldn't sell well in magazines, I suppose. People like human scandals more than fantasy stories nowadays."

Ange's eyes widened slightly.

Kinder?

She had never thought of it in that way before…

"And besides…" Otsuki scratched the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. "I always wanted to believe in magic, ever since I was a child. I thought, if I knew magic, I'd be able to get people to stop teasing me… Although I realize now magic might not be possible, it still makes me smile to think incredible things could happen one day. Ahahahaha."

Ange couldn't help but remember the words written in Maria's diary, which she had poured over many, many times.

_Magic__ to __make __the __bullies __leave __me__ alone._

_Magic__ to __make __me__ happy._

Although this man was far, far older than Maria- at least in his fifties- he… seemed to have a friendly, almost childish quality about him… that was beginning to remind Ange a lot of her big cousin.

Maria had wanted to believe in magic as well, hadn't she? Maria had been lonely so she invented lots of wonderful friends, and they kept her company.

Magic was kinder than the truth.

And, a long time ago, Ange had thought she exact same thing. She had been alone and miserable at St. Lucia, so she tried to become a witch and summon new friends who wouldn't leave her. She imagined herself as a witch with those lively seven sisters by her side, instead of being a lonely girl with no friends… because that made her happy.

Because magic was kinder than her reality.

Although Ange did not truly believe the culprit was a witch- she couldn't deny she felt a very vague sense of solidarity with this old man, laughing and shaking his head.

Maybe all humans who wanted to believe in magic were, deep down, despite their ages or genders or professions or nationalities… very, very similar after all.

They just wanted to live in a happier, kinder world than the one humans resided in.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Why I wrote something about a character like Otsuki who has like 20 lines in /one/ visual nove. i don't know... XD He appars even less than Gohda XDD He's even less popular than /Gaap/ XDD But I kind of like his character design... and i find the 'interpretation of truths' thing pretty interesting ^^;;  
>Um, &amp; to the people that requested stuff, I will probably write most of that at some point ^^;;<p>

**~renahhchen**** xoxo**


	153. Uncurious for you

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #153: Un-curious for you

* * *

><p>"What? You went all the way to Okinawa together and you didn't even <em>kiss<em>?"

"W-well, we were so busy that it, um, slipped our minds…?"

"How could you have been busy at an _aquarium?_Looking at fish isn't nearly as interesting as hugging and kissing and romance! You've read all those women's magazines, Shannon; you should _know_that."

"U-um…" Her face flushing red, Shannon began to pick at her skirts nervously. "U-um, actually… actually…"

"Actually?"

"I-I've never read magazines like that before in my life! I-it would be too embarrassing!" Shannon's face was now as red as a tomato. "D-does that make me abnormal? Am I a… a… a freak?"

Jessica sighed, her irritation slipping away in the face of Shannon's distress. It was impossible being angry at Shannon when her eyes went all wide like that, and teasing her was about as much fun as kicking a puppy.

"No, you're not a freak. You're just… argh! I wanted to hear some juicy gossip!" Jessica whined. "I really want it to work out between you and George, seriously! It'd knock mom down a few pegs about that whole 'servants cannot mingle with our esteemed family blah blah blah' nonsense, and I think George would be really good for you… w-weird as it for me to say that, 'cause he's my cousin." Jessica tried to mask her embarrassment with a laugh, rubbing the back of her head. "Haha… But it sounds like you didn't make any progress in your relationship at all!"

"D-do you think George will become angry with me if we don't kiss? T-the idea honestly never occurred to me…" Shannon dipped her head in shame. "M-maybe I'm… stupid, then?"

"Naïve, more like. And so innocent it really hurts. Geez. I don't think George would be angry, though." Jessica began to laugh. "He's really smart, but he's totally dense when it comes to 'love' as well. I bet he didn't think about it either!"

Shannon smiled in relief. "I-I suppose so… Hehe… B-but what will I do when George does want to kiss me?"

It was Jessica's turn to be flustered. "Well, I'm not really the expert…"

"Have you kissed anybody, Jessica?"

"O-of course I haven't!"

At Jessica's scandalized tone of voice, Shannon clapped her hands over her mouth. "I-I'm sorry if what I said was impertinent! I had no right to question your personal life- I went too far! Please forgive me!"

"No, it's alright," said Jessica, smiling a little at Shannon's apologies. Even though they were good friends, it seemed Shannon hadn't quite been able to shake away her inferiority complex of being 'only furniture'. "But we're pretty helpless, huh? I mean, we're teenagers already, and we haven't even kissed anyone, ahahahaha~"

"M-maybe we should practise?"

"Practise…?"

Then, a rather strange idea hit her. It must have hit Shannon at the exact same time, for both the girls- who had been sat rather close together on Jessica's bed- suddenly sprang apart, Shannon very nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

"N-not with each other, of course!"

"Of course!"

"I didn't even think of it!"

"Me neither!"

"Y-you're just my friend! That's it!"

"I feel exactly the same!"

"Ahahaha!"

"Ahahaha… ha… ha… …"

It was no coincidence they both tried to ignore each other for a week after that.


	154. The search for the right Beatrice

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #154: The search for the right Beatrice

* * *

><p>"Urgh! Teacher, what are you doing?"<p>

Virgilia paused in her ministrations, looking slightly taken aback; just like a mother who had tried desperately hard to buy a lovely birthday present for their child, but their efforts had only been met with tears, temper tantrums and 'I don't want _that_!'

Given Virgilia and Beatrice's mother-daughter relationship, that kind of example was incredibly fitting. It was precisely how Virgilia felt on occasions.

A mother who was losing touch with her child.

"I-I was just trying to wipe your mouth," Virgilia explained, abashed. "There were cake crumbs round it, and-"

"I don't care! I'm old enough to wipe my own crumbs off my face, Teacher! Stop butting in- it doesn't concern you, it doesn't concern you at aaaaall!"

"But Beato, the crumbs were there for quite a while."

Beatrice's face turned light pink. "I-I knew that!"

"If you ate more carefully, then you wouldn't make a mess everywhere. I only wanted to ensure you looked presentable. You're really quite pretty when you don't have cake round your mouth…"

"_Teacher_."

"Or pull faces like that."

Now thoroughly embarrassed by Virgilia's mollycoddling, Beatrice shouted, beet red, "J-just go **away**, you old granny! L-leave me alone! I'm so sick of you, I'm sick of yooou!"

Virgilia winced as her once-cute disciple shouted at her over something ridiculous. Was she not allowed to wipe crumbs from Beato's face anymore, even though she used to do it for her all the time when Beato was a child?

How… sad.

How tragic.

How…

A-aah..

…

…_Ow._

Virgilia blinked in surprise. It felt like a faint, far-away hand was tugging at her centre of gravity; gently at first, but now with greater force. It was a distinctly magical feeling that slowly began to consume her body, particle by particle.

She was being summoned.

A person with great magical power was summoning her.

This… was a surprise. When the last time a powerful magician had called upon her aid like this?

Although Virgilia didn't want to leave Beato in a bad mood, cake _still_ stuck to her chin, she had no choice. And, really… she felt a little bit grateful.

At least _somebody_ wanted her.

She had been beginning to lose heart.

* * *

><p>When Virgilia rematerialized, she found she had been pulled into an old study. It was lined with shelves upon shelves of books, and the spaces on the shelves that weren't stuffed with old, leather-bound tomes were the resting places of some very strange objects indeed; sacrificial stakes, old tallow candles, a… human skull?, and a tank with a seemingly dead goldfish resting forlornly on the bottom.<p>

There was an unpleasant scent hanging in the air that was even more hideous than the corpse of the goldfish. That smell, which could surely not have been natural, was sickeningly sweet, and it felt like a rot was beginning to set into Virgilia's brain.

It felt exactly like the secretive study of a medieval alchemist- and Virgilia knew who the owner was within a moment.

Lord Goldsmith.

Ushiromiya Kinzo.

"Greetings, Lord Goldsmith," said Virgilia politely, taking her skirts in her hands and curtseying deeply before the respectable sorcerer. "May I inquire as to why you have summoned me?"

Kinzo glared coldly at Virgilia, as though she were something dead he had scraped from the sole of his shoe.

"…I didn't summon you."

Virgilia frowned. "Then why-"

"I was _trying _to summon Beatrice."

Virgilia sighed. It was a well known fact Kinzo, though brilliant with magic, was only able to summon furniture such as the Chiester Sisters, or demons from the 72 pillars, or herself. Virgilia said 'only', although that in itself was a huge accomplishment many with magical blood never even reached. Even Beatrice had trouble summoning the Chiester Sisters, and she was a witch.

But Kinzo didn't want to summon incredible furniture.

He only wanted to summon her.

Beatrice.

That fickle child, who may have appeared to laugh at him cruelly whilst he was stricken with lovesick madness, but would never docilely appear when summoned as Virgilia did.

No matter how far Kinzo reached, and how deeply into the darkest depths of magic he plumbed, he could never grasp Beatrice; not even by the tips of his fingers. Truly, it was very… tragic.

"You want to talk to… Beato…?"

"Yes! I mean her; precisely her! The Beatrice from the portrait, the Beatrice of my heart! Despite being one thousand years old she'll always be a young girl, a beautiful woman, whilst I become old and decrepit and wither away! "Oooh, Beatrice! How I miss you! I want to see your angelic smiling face just once!"

…Honestly. When Kinzo called Beato 'angelic', Virgilia had to wonder whether they were thinking about the same Golden Witch. Virgilia could only see a naughty child who ate too much cake and made herself ill.

Maybe Kinzo had his image of Beato all mixed up, and that was why he couldn't summon her? His vision of Beatrice had been beautified by loss and old age. He saw her with his heart, not his eyes… and you couldn't summon a fantasy girl who didn't exist.

"Oooh, Beatrice, Beatrice, Beatriceeeee!"

Beginning to feel rather unwanted again, Virgilia said softly, trying to placate Kinzo, "Well… I used to own the name Beatrice once, as well. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

But this didn't comfort Kinzo in the slightest. Instead, it only made him angrier.

"Pah! Then you are a poor substitute for her! It seems I summoned the wrong Beatrice, doesn't it?"

Virgilia could only sigh sadly, embarrassed, hanging her head.

With young girls and old men throwing temper tantrums at her alike, and neither of them caring for her company, Virgilia couldn't help but feel miserable.

Maybe she really _was_ unneeded after all.

…At least Gaap was always happy to see her.


	155. How the Rokkenjima witch hunt was ended

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #155: How the Rokkenjima witch hunt was adjourned

* * *

><p>"Uwaaah! We're lost, we're lost! We'll never see our families again!"<p>

"I-is that true? T-that can't be true! We'll escape, we will- we just need to believe in the power of love!"

"No! That stuff only works in anime! I-it's impossible! It's too late for that, Jessica! We're… really lost! The witch will catch us and grind our bones to make her bread!"

"…I thought it was giants who did that?"

"Same difference! Aaaah, it's useless, it's all useleeeeeess! We're lost, totally lost- and we're gonna get eated-ed… en…? Ed…? … … … Om nom nom! Just like that!"

"I-if the witch comes to eat us, then I'll just… I'll… I-I'll punch her in the face! Just like daddy did to Ruon by accident."

"Eh? Why's Uncle Krauss hitting his maids? I like Ruon."

"Daddy was half-asleep in his study last week, an' then she went in there to tidy up… an' he was all confused, and thought she was a burglar, an' he hit her. I think that's what happened."

"Oohhh. I see."

"Anyways, I'm gonna show that witch who's boss! I'll swing my fist like this- see, see, like that! Hiyaaaaah! An' then the witch'll go crying!"

"Aaaah, useless, it's all useless! You can't hurt a witch by punching her; you can only kill witches by burning them or throwing them in a lake or setting Aunt Eva on 'em!"

"Then what are we gonna do?"

"Nothing! I already said, it's useless!"

"U-useless?"

"Totally."

"And w-we're lost in the forest?"

"That's right."

"A-and we'll never escape?"

"Never."

"S-seriously?"

"Seriously!"

"Uhuhu… B-but… but… haa… u-uwaaaaah… …!"

"Uwaaaaah!"

Ushiromiya George, meanwhile, watched his two crying cousins with a slightly puzzled look on his face. Jessica and Battler were only around four years old, and they had a habit of working each other up into states of hysteria like that, as little children are prone to doing.

_Honestly._

Those two were noisy and boisterous enough by themselves. They were even worse when they were together.

Even so, despite his oncoming headache, George _had_ to smile. He was old enough (and mature enough) to appreciate his siblings were just little kids, so he couldn't get angry with them.

Their antics were, quite simply… cute.

George had never really played around like that as a kid. He hadn't had the chance. When he was younger, he didn't have any cousins; Battler and Jessica hadn't been born yet. He didn't have many friends either, being so serious, and so he'd always felt alone. George was glad Battler and Jessica didn't have to feel like that.

He was glad they had each other. Even if they did encourage each other to be naughty.

That was just part of being a child, though. A part George had missed out on.

Battler and Jessica had dragged George outside into the forest to search for the witch Kumasawa always talked about. They'd been talking tough, acting just like real witch hunters, as though they wanted to put Bernard Gui to shame. Jessica and Battler claimed they were going to teach that witch a lesson- but, being only four years apiece, they'd dragged George along to be their chaperone. George doubted Bernard Gui, or any other inquisitors in medieval witch hunts, had brought chaperones with them when they sentenced witches to death, but he decided not to quibble over the minor details.

Fortunately for the Rokkenjima witch, Battler and Jessica weren't very good witch hunters. It looked like she'd live to see another day, so she could sit in the shadows and cackle at them if she wished. Not a hair on her head was in any immediate danger.

And why were Battler and Jessica such ineffectual witch hunters?

…That was mainly because they had no sense of direction. Within ten minutes they had, somehow, managed to convince themselves they were lost, lost forever, and would never return home.

In reality, the path back to the mansion was about five feet away to their left. George could even _see_ it. But, no matter what George said, Battler kept asserting it was 'useleeeeess!' and continued to cry.

Well, kids would be kids.

"Don't worry about the witch," said George soothingly. "They only come out at night, right?"

"R-right…" said Jessica dubiously, wiping her eyes. "S-so…?"

"So it'll be fine. Come here. I'll take us back to the mansion."

"B-but we're lost! H-how could you know the way back?" asked Battler. "Were you dropping breadcrumbs, just like Hansel?"

"Huh? Ah, no, nothing of the sort. I didn't think. No. The real reason I can make it back is because…"

George could have given the truthful, boring, slightly arrogant answer (because I've actually studied geography, and I'm not stupid) or the slightly more mischievous, teasing one.

In the end… he chose the latter.

George had been a pretty serious, lonely kid- but now he had people to play around with, why couldn't he have a little fun?

George grinned.

"I can find our way back because… _I__'__m_ magical, too."

Battler and Jessica stared at him in awe, and both chorused, "R-really?"

"Haha~ Would your big cousin lie to you?"

Those words did the trick. Battler and Jessica had always viewed their older cousin as an adult himself, so they treated his words as though they were law.

"I-if George says it, it must be true!"

"Wow! My cousin knows magic! I'm gonna tell everybody at school!"

"Yes, you do that, Jessica~ Anyway. Now, let's get back to the main path. Up we go!"

And with that, George hefted Jessica up into his arms. George knew he was a little too skinny to carry her, but he'd practising taekwondo with his mom, so he had _just_ enough upper body strength to cart about a little squirt like Jessica. He didn't have enough strength to tote Battler around too, so Battler had to make do with holding George's hand.

Then, in a strange procession, they all trooped back to the main mansion. No witches followed them, of course. Surely the witches who frequented Rokkenjima's forest were too busy drinking tea and giggling over how cute the domestic scene playing out before them was to do anything cruel.


	156. Bloody Krauss

**Being**** Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #156: Bloody Krauss

* * *

><p>"Wow, amazing! This is awesome! Hiyahahahahaha!~"<p>

"Yes, that's right! You're amazing, Milady! Nihihi!"

"Aaah, so this is the power of magic, huh? The true power of magic? Wonderful; it's so wonderful, gyahaha! It's no wonder Father was obsessed with harnessing this power, or young girls dream of becoming witches! There aren't any rules or limitations anymore! I can smash the goldfish bowl and tear open the teddy bear and nobody can punish me- noooobody! Who can stop me now?"

"Nobody can stop you, Milady! The magical power flowing from you is incredible, nyeheheh~ You could drag Persephone back from the underworld by her hair; even summon Angurvadal, the sword of Frithiof; even discover the culprit of _Higurashi no Naku Koro ni _as early as _Onikakushi-hen; _even afford to give me carrots after every mission, nyeheh!"

"That's right! And who'll stop me from becoming the head of the Ushiromiya family noooow? They can't! I already AM the head, and the ruler of this island, too! I'm not just a 'woman'- I'm a witch! Drowned by jelly, crushed by cake, being turned into a spider and played with over and over again will soon push those filthy misogynist thoughts out of my deeeeear Father's head, hihihihyahahaha! With magic, I can make all my dreams come true! Nobody will ever oppose me ever again! Krauss can go to hell! Father can go to hell! Even Rosa, Rudolf, Natsuhi, Kyrie, that useless fat doctor and that oooold crone and the other useless servants- I hate them all, I haaate them, they're all pieces on my game board and they can aaaaaall go to hell!"

And, in so saying, an insane smile split across the face of the new witch, and she began to cackle loudly. Chiester 410 laughed along with her.

Poor Chiester 45 didn't know what to do, as the confused look on her face strongly attested to. She was holding her ears protectively, head ducked, and her knees were shaking. She'd always been a shy girl who hated loud noises, and her system was delicate; weak against sound waves of a very high frequency. Being furniture for a witch like Eva-Beatrice was going to take a toll on her health, she could tell.

"Uu… i-it's so loud… … Haaa…"

Fortunately for 45, she wasn't alone. Ronove was with her, and he seemed to realize just how stressed she'd become, because he rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"My, my…" said Ronove lightly, interjecting through one of Eva-Beatrice's rants, "Surely, if you send that many people to hell, it will get rather crowded down there, pu ku ku~"

But Eva-Beatrice wasn't listening.

"Hahaha! I'll make the world open up beneath their feet and send them to hell myself! I'll escort them all personally because I'm just thaaaaat nice, seeeee? Ooh, I wonder what fun deaths they can have next- I wonder! Gyahahahahahahaha! Oh- and I know exactly what I'm going to do with my lovely big brother Krauss, gyahahaha!~"

"What are you going to do, Milady? What're you gonna do? I bet it'll be awesome!"

Eva-Beatrice giggled cruelly, like a child who enjoyed tearing the wings off flies. With one strong, proud motion… she slammed the butt of her staff down against the floor- _thump!_- and cleared her throat. The look on her face was twisted and ugly, and could have made a demon tremble. In fact, it _did._ With that hideous, monstrous expression, the new Beatrice- the cruellest Beatrice- opened her mouth, and proudly proclaimed;

"I am going to look that stupid man in the eye… and then I'll say 'who's the useless one nooooow, Kraaaaauss? Hihihihyahahahaha!' And then… and then…"

Her eyes widened, her insane smile growing wider.

"And then I'll hit him over the head with my staff! Ahaha! Krauss always used to flick me in the head when I was a child and go 'haaa, you're so stuuupid and useless Evaaaaa' so I've always wanted to return the favor! I've waited all my life for this moment! KYAHAHAHA!~"

...

There was a small silence.

Chiester 45 slowly took her hands away from her ears.

410 tilted her head to one side and muttered a small 'nyeeeh?' of confusion.

Ronove's gentle reminder that she couldn't be too brutal with her killing methods died on his tongue, not a single syllable spoken. Instead, he said something completely different.

"…Well… I suppose that would be alright. Sometimes petty revenge like that can be just as much fun as violent murder? Pu ku ku…"

Maybe, despite her cruel nature- or, no, _because_ of her cruel nature- Eva-Beatrice was still very childish. So… wanting to hit her bullying big brother over the head was… actually kind of cute. It was just like playing a harmless prank on somebody for a sense of self satisfaction, even if, in reality, that prank resolved very little.

Maybe Eva-Beatrice wasn't that bad after all.

Maybe-

"And then, after I've hit Krauss over the head a few times, I'll kill him. I'll kill him over and over again, as many times as I like! I'll rip out his insides and I'll bake them in the oven with carrots, and I'll make them into a wonderful carrot cake and serve it to the Chiester Sisters for their hard work! I'll call it a Bloody Kruass and Carrot Cake Surprise! Hyaaahahahahahahaha!"

410 and 45 both turned pale.

"U-um, you see, I'm a vegetarian so I can't! I-it's impossible, nyehheh..."

"A-ahhh… T-t-t-thank you for the offer, b-b-but I'll have to refuse!"

"And, personally, I don't think what you have described counts as a merciful death, Milady. I thought you were going to honor the former Beatrice's words?"

Eva-Beatrice scowled. "Any more complaints?"

"Yes, actually..." said Ronove. "I do believe the Predecessor already coined the name 'Bloody Krauss' in the last game… pu ku ku."


	157. Don't be so shellfish

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #157: Don't be so shellfish

* * *

><p>"Come on, Natsuhi, eat it. It's delicious!"<p>

"A-aah, I-I'm sorry, but I-I really don't think I can! I-it still has its eyes a-and… and… pincers…"

"Then you peel the skin off, obviously. Come on, Natsuhi; I've eaten mine, so you have to eat yours'. It would be rude not to!"

"D-dear, please don't make a scene!"

"_I__'__m _making a scene? And how, exactly, am I doing that, my dear wife? Haha~"

Krauss' boisterous laughter, coupled with his childish enthusiasm, was enough to draw the attention of even more pairs of eyes. To Natsuhi, it felt as though everybody in the restaurant was staring at them; no doubt judging them, silently scorning them, unaware they were members of the Ushiromiya family who always acted with grace and dignity.

Well… Krauss wasn't acting very dignified or graceful at that moment, but still. Natsuhi's pride refused to let people mock her and her husband in such a manner.

"Dear, everybody's staring at us," Natsuhi hissed under her breath, face bright pink. Oh, if only a hole could open up under her feet and swallow her… "Please, for me, can you try to behave…?"

"Behave? I'm not a child. You're my wife, not my mother."

"I-I know, but-"

"And I really, really wanted to play around and have a nice break from worrying about my businesses. It's _tiring_, you know? Haha…"

Krauss laughed- but it wasn't the same sort of laughter as before. That laugh had been loud and cheerful. This one was weak; a faded imitation of former happiness that didn't quite look sincere. At that moment, Natsuhi was hit with a rather shocking revelation. Her husband looked completely exhausted.

Worn down.

_Defeated._

"I'm beginning to feel old. Ha. I'm beginning to _look_ old," said Krauss, running his free hand through his hair. "I'm going grey, getting wrinkles… aaah, I'm becoming a wreck. It's stress, I tell you. No wonder Father's hair went white before he became twenty-five, ahaha..."

"D-dear…?"

"I just want to mess around and have some fun for a while; that's all. Maybe it'll get rid of the bags under my eyes. You understand, don't you, Natsuhi?"

Natsuhi's expression softened slightly at Krauss' words. She was all too used to her husband ignoring her; trying to hide the true state of his finances with evasive smiles and 'don't worry's; never confiding in her because he didn't want to upset her with the truth. But now, it looked like the hidden truth behind Krauss' multiple failed businesses was even worse than Natsuhi had first thought. Krauss was probably in debt.

Well, that wasn't too surprising. Natsuhi had already begun to suspect- and though she should have been angry at her careless husband, she… she couldn't bring herself to be. He only struck these insane deals because he cared about her, he cared about Jessica, he cared about he family. He only did it because of love. Natsuhi couldn't imagine there was any malicious intent in her dear, dear husband at all. How could she hate him for that?

Instead... Natsuhi was happy Krauss had finally confessed in her.

"Dear...?"

"Mm?"

"You're… You're not old. I think you're still just… just…" Natsuhi's cheeks turned deeper pink at saying such embarrassing things- but as Krauss' wife, wasn't it her duty to provide comfort? So, even though she began to tremble, she kept talking. "I think you're still just as young and handsome as you were when I first met you. A-and…" She smiled slightly; taking Krauss' free hand from across the table. "We'll get through this together, alright? We can face any challenge as husband and wife. So… You don't need to worry. For now, we can just relax… and enjoy our meal."

There was a small silence; broken only by idle chatter and the clink of forks on plates in the distance.

Natsuhi didn't care if people were staring at them anymore. She didn't care that her face was pink, and she was shivering, and a mountain of debt hung over her head like a storm cloud. She didn't care about any of those things because, as Ushiromiya Natsuhi… she would surely conquer them all. She would do anything for her husband; and she could surely do anything by his side.

Krauss must have sensed Natsuhi's steely resolve through her eyes. Though she said nothing more on the subject, something had been communicated to him without words… and he couldn't help but smile warmly.

"Thank you, Natsuhi. You don't know how much that means to me... And I'm sorry for ruining this meal with talk about business; this was meant to be a way to escape from all those numbers and figures… and headaches."

"It's quite alright," said Natsuhi, smiling. "I would do anything for you, dear."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Oh… ohohoho! Then we better put that to the test!"

"D-dear?"

With a hearty laugh, Krauss picked up the fork he'd been tormenting Natsuhi with earlier- and Natsuhi's face instantly became pale.

"W-what are you doing? P-put the shrimp down, i-it's creepy…!"

"Ahaha~ But didn't you say we could conquer anything? Why don't we try and conquer your fear of shellfish right now?"

"N-no, I don't want to, I, I… K-kyaaaaah!"


	158. Parting shots

**Being**** Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun****  
><strong>Short #158: Parting shots

* * *

><p>Ushiromiya Ange stood proudly, hands by her sides; a tall, gaunt figure in the steely early morning. The wind whipped her red hair about her shoulders. Her cheap plastic hair ties clinked together. And yet, although it tried its best, the howls of the wind could not hope to move her.<p>

Not now.

Ange had transcended beyond the plain of human discomforts. She was no longer Ushiromiya Ange, a lonely girl with no friends or family. She was ANGE-Beatrice, the last witch of Rokkenjima. Rokkenjima, and everybody on it, now belonged to her.

The dead bodies of her Aunt's guards lay strewn at Ange's feet like giant dolls.

The Seven Sisters of Purgatory, meanwhile, hovered behind Ange; pretty maids all in a row, ready to kill on command. They were a demonic group of guards indeed. They hovered in the air, feet barely brushing the floor. Their blades were drawn, sharp enough to easily slit a throat. Their eyes were bright red, and their pale skin was splattered with blood.

There was nobody left to protect Sumadera Kasumi.

Like a frantic game of chess, the positions had been thoroughly reversed within the last two minutes. Finally, Ange was in charge, and Kasumi was trembling in her ornate kimono just like a bug about to be squished.

Ange could have done it. She could have squished her easily. That was the immense power of her magic.

Fortunately, Ange was merciful, and she couldn't kill somebody so pitiable. Not like that. Ange had learnt more than magic on her journey. She had learnt forgiveness, too.

"I'll give you one last chance, Aunt Kasumi," said the Witch of Resurrection. "Please… put aside your hatred. Purge yourself of your sins… and forgive me. Let's forgive each other. Then, I'll spare your life- and it will finally be worth living again."

There was a small silence, during which the wind continued to howl mournfully.

Maybe, if Ange had offered Kasumi this proposition a few years later, when her heart wasn't entirely smashed and shattered, it would have worked. Maybe Kasumi would have accepted her help and taken her hand. But now… Ange was sure it was too late.

Surely a woman like Kasumi, blinded with hatred, couldn't see in the change in Ange. Kasumi couldn't see the witch. She didn't have enough love… so she only saw the annoying brat, that spawn of her horrible sister, whom she despised above all else. So Kasumi couldn't forgive, and she couldn't forget. She couldn't be happy.

Killing her would have been merciful at this point.

"… …How sad," said Ange softly, turning her gaze away. "Then, I suppose this really is _goodbye_, Aunt Kasumi. _Have__ a __nice __dream_."

"Y-you think you can act condescending towards me? W-we'll see how haughty you look with a bullet in your mouth, little Aaaaange!"

"...Sure. Go ahead. The loser is entitled to one last act of desperation, right?"

"S-shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Kasumi raised a gun- stolen, no doubt, from one of the dead men on the floor. She aimed it at Ange's face.

But she wasn't fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.

Mammon, the only sister who was not yet splattered in blood to defend Ange, had charged forwards.

Within a few moments, Mammon would surely drive that fatal tip of her stake form into Kasumi's forehead.

Within a few moments, that black, tainted blood would pour out of Kasumi's chest.

Within a few moments, Kasumi would die… and there would be no-

"E-eehh? W-what's this?"

"Ihihihi!~ I'm sorry, Miss Sumadera. You're kinda cute, but not as cute as my little lady. A guy has to protect the cutest girl, doesn't he? I'm just doing my job. _See__ you __in __hell_, right?"

_Bang_!

And with those rather ostentatious, arrogant words, a single bullet at point blank hit Kasumi in the back of her head.

She fell to the floor, dead, before Mammon even touched her with the tips of he fingers.

* * *

><p>"Did you really have to say a corny line like that, Amakusa?" asked Ange sourly. "What if Aunt Kasumi didn't feel like listening to the end of that spiel and shot me in the face while you were still enraptured by the sound of your own stupid voice?"<p>

Amakusa laughed, abashed, as he ducked out from underneath Ange's hand. The little lady had a painful right hook on her, and she looked particularly annoyed at that moment in time. Amakusa might have fought on numerous battlefields, and seen scenes of death far worse than Kasumi's last moments, but he still held that Ushiromiya Ange was far, far scarier than any of that.

"Ihihi~ I'm sorry, little lady, really, I am! It's just, I've always wanted to deliver a really cool parting line to somebody like that before I kill 'em! You got to live out your dream returning to Rokkenjima; I just wanted to experience mine. Sorry for being selfish."

"Selfish with my _life_. I could have died."

"I already said sorry about that, ahaha!"

Ange grit her teeth together and folded her arms. "Urgh. I suppose it doesn't matter how old men get; they're still young boys at heart."

Amakusa grinned, ruffling Ange's hair playfully. She tried to throw him away once more, but he was resolute this time; he would ruffle that sourpuss' cute little head!

"I like being young at heart~ And I _did_ sound cool, right? I totally charged in at the last minute and rescued you like a knight from a girly fairytale, rii~iight? Hihihi!"

"Don't mess with my hair! And don't treat murder so lightly! I'm not _happy_ about what happened, you know?"

_Thud._

"Awww~ A pretty hard to please princess, aren't you, Lady Ange? What on earth does a knight have to do to curry your favour?"

"You can start by shutting up and acting in a more appropriate, apologetic manner for somebody who just **shot my aunt**."

* * *

><p>Mammon, meanwhile, was besides herself with anger. Her face was flushed bright red, eyes narrowed with rage, and she hovered, unseen, by Amakusa's side, trying to tug his stupid ponytail out his head. It was too bad that, to Amakusa, that gentle tugging sensation was indistinguishable from the wind. Mammon had used all her power trying to pierce Kasumi, and the most she could do now was feebly imitate the breeze.<p>

Of course, this only made her angrier.

There was nothing more irritating that being able to see the target, but being unable to hit it.

"Aaaaah! I hate you, you idiot! I was gonna stake that old hag in the chest; that was my job! It was MY part and it was the BEST part and you STOLE it! I didn't even get to kill anyone- and I wanted to protect Ange! She's my friend, you hear? She's all mine! You don't have a right to protect her- why don't you just DIE?"

Of course, the other sisters wouldn't let Mammon forget her embarrassment so easily.

"Aaaah~ I had so much fun protecting Ange! Hehe~ It was nice to feel useful and wanted!" said Leviathan.

"Don't cry because you were slow, Mammon. It's your own fault for hesitating," said Lucifer.

"Yeaaah, you useless fool! Only idiots sob over their own stupid mistakes! Why don't you cry yourself a lake of tears and drown in them?" taunted Satan.

"Ooh, it was a delicious feast of flesh~ Those stupid henchmen didn't even see it coming, hehehe~" said Beelzebub.

"It was an honor to serve Ange," said Belphegor.

Even Asmodeus, who normally broke up disputes between the sisters, was staring fixedly at Amakusa, muttering about how cool he was. Even if Ange wasn't taken by his antics, Asmodeus sure was. Hearts were practically dancing around her head.

Mammon's face turned a deeper shade of red still, and tears began to bead in her eyes.

"Uuuurgh! I hate you all! Why don't you just bite your belly buttons and DIE?"

* * *

><p>Ange looked at the noisy stakes and sighed. None too gently, she smacked her head against the palm of her hand.<p>

_Do any of these people have any respect for the dead at all?_

_Good grief.  
><em>


	159. Burn the witch

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #159: Burn the witch

* * *

><p>"Yaaay~ I'm baking cookies with Bern!"<p>

"Hm. So you are."

"I love you, Bern, I love you! Hehe~ I'm so happy~"

As further proof of her happiness, if the giggling wasn't enough, Lambda was all but _skipping_ around the kitchen. Every so often she would pause and click her heels together, almost as if she were Dorothy in Oz, dreaming of going home. But leaving her lovely Bern's side was the last thing on Lambda's mind. She would never ever leave, not even if Beato's goat butlers tried to drag her away by her hair. Nothing could keep Lambda away from Bern!

Bernkastel, by contrast, wasn't nearly as excited. She sighed and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"Don't get so happy about something so trivial. It's irritating."

"But, Beeern you're never usually this kind to me! It's really rare you say yes when I ask to bake cookies, so this was a really, really nice surprise!"

A small, rather cruel smile spread across Bern's lips. "Well, let's look at this way. If you were training a troublesome cat, sometimes violence and cruelty is the best way to make it obey you. However, if you keep hitting the cat with a sick, it will eventually grow used to that treatment, and it will stop being effective. If you occasionally scratch it behind the ears or feed it treats in between beatings, it will be confused and easier to manipulate."

"Hehehe~ Awww, but we all know you'd never hit a cat with a stick. Behind your exterior of a ruthless, sadistic maniac, there beats the heart of a really pure, kind girl who loves animals, right?"

Lambdadelta giggled, leaning forwards, and began to prod Bern in the side.

"Right, riiiight?~"

Prod.

"Hehehe~ Are you getting embarrassed, Bern? Don't worry; I won't tell a soul about your secret! I think your love for cats is really, really cute!"

Prod, prod.

"N-ngh…"

"Hey, it's okay. Even the strongest people have their weaknesses. Kind of like Achilles and his heel. But being allergic to the adorable of cats is more interesting; exactly as expected of a complex girl like you! Oh ho ho ho ho!~"

Bernkastel pulled an ugly face- mostly to hide a very, very faint blush. There was nothing weird about liking cats. They were _adorable_- and very, very dangerous. Sometimes you forgot about their sharp claws, and that was when they scratched you.

Lambda was kind of like a cat, too. Obfuscating stupidity surrounding a centre of malice and cruelty. Bern liked cats a lot because of their wily natures… and, by that logic, she liked Lambdadelta quite a bit, too.

Not that Bern would tell Lambda that.

At least, not seriously.

"... …Get out of my face," was what Bernkastel finally said, turning her face away.

"Ooh?" Giggle, giggle. "Did I touch a nerve, Bern? Did I? Kikikiki- owowow!"

Bernkastel had taken hold of Lambda's whole face with one hand, and- with strength a girl of her side shouldn't have possessed- forcefully pushed her away. Lambdadelta tripped over her own feet and fell against the floor, bashing her shoulder awkwardly.

"O-ow… T-that really hurt! Bern you're mean! Bleeeeh!"

"Yes. I'm mean. And, if you're going to be ridiculous, then maybe I won't scratch you behind the ears anymore," said Bernkastel coldly. "I'll try and use the stick instead."

And with, she turned to the oven, where the cookies inside were baking. They surely weren't finished yet- so if Bern opened the oven now, and took them out, they'd still be half-raw and inedible. All the love Lambda and Bern had poured into those cute cookies, _together_, as a team, would be wasted. If Bern and Lambda's love had to go straight in the trash because they tasted bad, Lambda would cry; she seriously would! She wanted to taste how sweet Bern's feelings were for herself!

"N-nooo! Bern, don't do it! Don't! At least save the cookies!"

Lambda was so hasty to recue the food-ified form of her and Bern's love that she didn't even think to stand up. She didn't have enough time. Instead, she crawled across the floor like some kind of strange pink spider, and latched hold of Bern's foot with one hand.

Her efforts were all in vain, though.

Bernkastel kicked her away.

"O-oww!"

Bern opened the oven door…

"No, Bern, don't!"

She reached inside-

"Beeeeeeern!"

"G-gyaaa…!"

…And, at the same time, both girls let out a high pitched shriek.

Bernkastel jumped away from the oven as though she had been burnt- which was a very apt simile, really, given that she _had_.

It felt like her poor, sore hand was on fire.

H-how had she been so careless? Had she really let Lambda's teasing get to her that much? I-it made her feel sick!

"Hey Bern…" said Lambdadelta softly, curiously, still sitting on the floor. "Did you just stick your hand in the oven without turning it off?"

"S-shut up."

"Hehe… Did I really fluster you sooo much you forgot that fire is hot?~"

"Be _quiet_."

"Hey, Bern. Bern. Beeeern~"

"_What_?"

Lambdadelta blinked up at Bern, head tilted to one side.

Then, she began to giggle.

"It looks like the witch just got _burned_, right?"

There was a small pause.

Then, Bernkastel's lips twitched slightly… Almost as if… she had found Lambda's pathetic joke funny. Almost as if she was trying not to laugh.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Maybe she was trying not to scream instead.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Such a lame 'joke' I don't even XD  
>anyway, in regards to Fan of Games, it's fine if you want to mention my oneshot collection in yours'. In fact, I would be very honored ^_^;<br>The idea you wrote for a story sounded interesting too ^^' However, if you were wondering if I would write it, I don't think I would because I have so many multichapter stories to work on already, so I don't think I'd have the time. And I don't really like writing horror-themed stuff myself for too long. But thank you anyways for the suggestion ^^;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	160. Sunday is gloomy

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #160: Sunday is gloomy

* * *

><p>"So, what did you think of that one, Diana?"<p>

"Mreow."

"Ha. Yeah. I thought the plot was too simplistic as well. To be honest, I don't even know why I read it." Yawn. "Mm… I suppose the author tried their best. They clearly had a story they wanted to tell, so it would have been rude to stop half-way through because I didn't enjoy it."

"Mreow."

"I'm glad you feel the same. I'm sure that author will improve, given time…" A small pause. "Or they could get worse. But…" Another sigh. "I'd still read their books all the same. It's not like there's anything else to do on my time off."

"Mreow?"

"Apart from lie in bed and talk to you, of course."

"Mreow!"

For what had to be the 26th time in the past half hour (not that he was keeping count or anything), Will sighed, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

Weekends were so _boring_.

What had happened to the days when he used to enjoy going to clubs, getting drunk and chatting up pretty girls with blonde hair? What had happened to the days when he was the incredible, amazingly handsome and well-respected Willard H. Wright, the terror of all witches, a heartless inquisitor with an incredible reputation?

"Mreow~"

Will sighed (again), and absently patted Diana on the head.

He knew what had happened.

He knew exactly what.

He'd developed a conscience.

After that, hunting witches for the hell of it stopped being so fun. It wasn't a game anymore, and witches weren't just pieces. They were people. And felling them began to feel like murder.

Once upon a time, Will used to read mystery novels solely for the pleasure of stroking his own ego. He saw mystery novels as a challenge- but he could invariably, with his razor-sharp mind, pinpoint the culprit within a handful of chapters. The who and howdunnits were far, far too easy, and he silently mocked the stupid authors for thinking they could fool him.

If reading mystery novels was a battle between reader and writer, Will always won.

But… he was different now.

He was still loved and feared and renowned, and still called 'Wizard-Hunting Wright' by his fan, but he no longer revelled in their company. Executing witches wasn't something that should be celebrated; it should have been mourned- because witches were people, too, and a lot of them were truly sad and pitiable. Will had never tried to understand them before, which made his work far easier- but now, he did. He tried his best.

So killing them… always hurt- just a little.

The praise and fame that was heaped upon him made him feel ill.

How could the public applaud him for being a murderer?

So Will stopped going to those parties, and stopped getting drunk, and stopped hooking up with pretty blonde girls.

On his weekends off, all he did now was stay at home in bed, or sometimes on the couch, Diana in his lap and an awful mystery novel in his hand. He didn't even change out of his blue and white striped pajamas. He didn't see the point.

He wasn't happy, not really… but that didn't matter.

The authors of those books surely put a lot of heart into them, even if their stories were poorly crafted… so Will would read them- and he would try not to mock them.

He didn't want to mock the pure and honest feelings of people's hearts anymore.

"Mreow."

Will looked down at Diana… and then smiled softly; stroking her behind the ears.

At least Diana would always accept him. He didn't have to impress her.

"Mreow!"

"O-ow…"

But that didn't mean Diana was particularly kind to him.

Will winced as Diana's claws dug into the back of his hand. They left behind a small wound, dripping with blood. Spots of red stained his bed sheets. It didn't matter, though; the bed had been pretty dirty anyway. Will was just too lazy to clean it.

He didn't see the point.

That was why his house was such a mess.

And that was also why Diana's stomach and food dish were empty.

"Ah… Sorry, Diana. I was being selfish, ignoring you like that. Forgive me."

"_Mreow_."

"Yes, yes, I'll feed you in a minute. Don't worry. You have to be considerate for an old man like me- I can't do things quickly anymore."

"… …Mreow."

"I'm glad you understand."

Getting out of bed really shouldn't have been such a challenge. Will's limbs creaked in protest from the slightest of slight movements, and his muscles ached terribly. He wasn't in good shape anymore, and if he kept slacking off like this it would make his job even _more_ difficult.

Humans weren't meant to have such sedentary lives.

_Gah._ It was really cold without his duvet, too. Will had grown used to that cocoon of stifling warmth around his body, until the extra heat wasn't unpleasant anymore. It was comforting- and the blankets felt a little like a second skin. His poor, bare toes, meanwhile, curled against the floor underfoot, desperately trying to bury themselves in half an inch of carpeting. The thought of walking across the tiled kitchen floor made Will wince.

It was a good thing Dlanor had given him those warm slippers for his birthday- even if they were shaped like rabbits. It might have been a strange joke (Dlanor was an emotionless girl, but she did have a rather odd sense of humor that sometimes manifested itself), but Will was still grateful for those slippers- ridiculous though they made him look.

If he wrapped his duvet round his shoulders like a cape, then he'd be all set to venture out of his room and into the kitchen.

Haha. He'd turned into such a _slob._

It was a good thing he had to take care of Diana.

It gave him a reason to get out of bed.

Without her, he might not even have bothered anymore.


	161. Ganbare, ganbare, Beato chan!

**Being**** Dysfunctional**** Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much**** Fun  
><strong>Short #161: Ganbare, ganbare, Beato-chan!

* * *

><p>"Um… Teacher…"<p>

"Hn…?"

At the sound of that soft, meek voice, Virgilia set down her knitting and lifted her head. The person who made that timid sound couldn't possibly have been Beato, could it…?

But… it undeniably _was_.

Beato was attired in a ruffled nightdress. Her hair curled loosely around her shoulders and she was hugging a pillow to her chest. Her blue eyes were downcast, lashes trembling slightly, and her cheeks were flushed light pink. Without her ornate dress, or her neatly styled hair, or her cruel smirks and high-pitched laughter, Beato didn't look nearly as old as she liked to pretend she was.

Instead, she looked like a young girl.

A young girl who had experienced her first love, and her first heartbreak.

When young girls experienced such things, they ran to their mothers, didn't they? Of course, Beato didn't have a mother- but she did have a 'family', of sorts, and she had Virgilia.

"Are you alright, Beato?"

Slowly, Beatrice shook her head.

Virgilia's eyes softened. "Bad dreams?"

A nod.

"Want to talk about it?"

Another nod.

"Teacher… …"

"Beato?"

Beatrice sniffed slightly, hugging her captured pillow even tighter. It looked like she was deliberating over whether to open her mouth or not- but, eventually, her desire for comfort defeated her pride. It wasn't like Beato felt any obligation to impress Virgilia, anyway. Virgilia wasn't her opponent in this game.

_He_ was.

"T-teacher… Do you think he'll _ever_ remember?"

Virgilia looked at her poor pupil with half-lidded eyes. Numerous responses flitted across her tongue, but none of them sounded right, and she wasn't sure if they'd be of any real comfort. To somebody whose heart had been broken like Beato's, in a manner few could understand, words of sympathy may have sounded hollow and empty.

"I… I can't answer that. But… Battler is a reasonably intelligent person."

At that, Beato's lip curled. A small fragment of her usual personality drifted across her face.

"_Ha_. That idiot, intelligent? Have you heard some of his arguments? They're so stupid I could die laughing."

"Well, at least he's able to make you happy."

"Not intentionally, though. That… That…" Beatrice scowled. "That incompetent _fool.__"_

"But being able to laugh together is surely a start?"

"It's not enough. When I look at him I think… No, I'm _sure_… that he _hates_ me. A-and maybe I hated him once, too, but-"

"Oh, Beato. Please don't fret. I'm sure Battler doesn't truly hate you. And, although you insult him… that's not how you really feel, is it? I can see that- and I'm sure Battler can see that as well. He is more perceptive than you give him credit for. So… Don't lose heart, alright? If you had enough faith in Battler's reasoning abilities to begin this game, then at least keep that faith until the very end."

Beatrice's face flickered through a series of emotions, as though unsure of which one to settle on. Eventually, she decided on a small pout.

"Muu… Well… I guess I'll try and be optimistic." A sigh. "It's stupid for me to act sad, anyway. It would ruin my reputation."

"Yes, that's the spirit."

Virgilia tried to sound as cheerful as possible- but she wasn't sure her words had really reached Beato. Beato had never been a particularly good liar, her emotions always shining across her face, but now it was getting a little difficult to fathom her true feelings.

Was that what happened to girls around their crushes? They got better at hiding their feelings? Did unrequited love make people craftier?

Well… As Beato's Teacher, Virgilia refused to let that child fool her with forced happiness. She refused to let Beato be unhappy. She only ever wanted Beato to smile; whether it was a cruel grin, or a softer, more honest quirk of the lips.

W-what was it people said in situations like this, to cheer up those who were sad? What did they do…?

Um…

Ahh…

Virgilia frowned, biting her lower lip. S-she couldn't say something like that, surely? Wouldn't she look silly?

But, it was for Beato; that poor, poor child… so she would try.

Virgilia forced herself to smile a little wider than usual. Then, forming a peace sign with both hands (something Lady Lambdadelta did _frequently_), she opened her mouth, face flushed bright red from embarrassment… and said;

"U-um… D-do your best, do your best, Be~a~to~! Yaaaay!~ …Or, um… s-something like that… ohoho… um… …"

The melancholy looked had slipped from Beato's face altogether. Instead, she stared blankly at Virgilia, as though she'd grown an extra head.

Virgilia shifted slightly in her chair. "W-well, at least say _something_."

Beatrice continued to stare.

Then, after a long, extended silence… she started to laugh.

"Gyahahahahahahaha! W-what the hell was thaaaaat, Teacher? A-are you trying to be a _genki_-type character nooooow? You're way too ooooold to pull that off! You should stick to baking apple pies and knitting and giving people terrible birthday presents because you're so out-of-touch with reality! Gyahahahahaha!~"

Virgilia's face turned bright red.

"I-I was just trying to cheer you up…! A-and the presents I gave you were _not _terrible!"

"You gave me a _**tea**__** cosy **_last year. _I_ don't make my own tea. What did you want me to do with it- use it as a hat with a hole in the middle? What the hell was that all about, Teacheeeer? Gyahahaha!~"

Beatrice laughed so hard she dropped her pillow to the floor, and had to clutch her stomach with both hands. Her laughter was very loud, very unabashed and very unladylike… but, at the same time… it was also very, very _Beato_.

She was back.

And, maybe it didn't matter so much that Virgilia had to sacrifice her own pride for that. Because she would have done anything just to see that rude, ungrateful, discourteous, loving and heart-broken and incredibly pitiable child smile.

She was just _that_ sappy and sentimental.

Maybe she really was getting old.


	162. Morals

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #162: Morals

* * *

><p>"Ooh, this cake is delicious! I've never tasted anything sweeter! Kyahhhh!~ I've died and gone to heaven!"<p>

"You say that about _all_the food you eat," said Lucifer disparagingly.

"Yeah, it's so predictable," said Satan grumpily. "You don't need to give us a constant narration when you eat; just shut up and stick in your mouth."

At this, Mammon began to cackle. "Yeah… That's what _she_said, fufufufu…"

Satan's turned bright red as she just realized what she'd said. "N-no, I didn't mean it like; you **know** I didn't!"

"I thought Asmo was meant to be the stake of lust, Sataaan~ I didn't really you had a side like that too!"

"B-be quiet! You don't know anything, **idiot**!" Satan shouted, trying to claw at Mammon's stupid, ugly face.

Unfortunately, Lucifer had the sense to hold her back.

_Damn__ it_.

There was a short silence, broken by Mammon's continuing sniggers and the noisy _om__ nom__ nom_ of Beelzebub demolishing her cake.

Then…

"You know, this dessert really _is _delicious!"

Beelzebub's sisters sighed.

"So," said Mammon, turning her attention away from Satan to her food obsessed sister, "what would you do if it turned out that cake from made from… dead babies?"

Satan pulled a face, and Lucifer said, "Do you _have_ to be so disgusting?"

Beelzebub, however, just giggled; the sound distorted a little owing to the fork still in her mouth.

"I'd say it adds to the flavor!~"

Satan stared at Beelzebub in horror.

"You know, I never noticed it 'cause you hide behind such a huge layer of stupid, but you really are **evil **when it comes to food."

"Hehe~ Thanks~"

"Now I'm intruiged. Do you have any principles at all when it comes to what you eat?" asked Mammon.

Beelzebub paused, thinking. She tilted her head to one side.

Then, she popped the fork out of her mouth and said brightly, "Of course I do! I really hate tomatoes!"

"…But dead babies are perfectly fine?" asked Mammon.

"Of course!"

Lucifer sighed.

"I worry about you sometimes. I think you need to get your morals sorted out."


	163. Try, try again

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #163: Try, try again

* * *

><p>Hachijo Ikuko sighed as she shifted through her mail. Bills, bills, more bills. It wasn't like she didn't have the money to pay them, that wasn't the problem. Her family was rich. She didn't even have to lift a finger, and all her monetary problems would sort themselves out in a few days. It was just a little disheartening to find only bills in her mail, and absolutely nothing else.<p>

Still... it was only to be expected.

She didn't have any friends, and her family- embarrassed over her rebellious teenage years- had shut her away in this beautiful house and were trying to pretend she didn't exist.

Who would ever write to her?

She liked being alone. This shouldn't have bothered her so much.

Maybe she was just having an 'off' day.

Ikuko sighed again, and slumped down on her comfy swivel chair by the computer table.

Maybe she'd have some e-mails or something, even if she didn't have any real mail.

She tapped her fingernails against the desk impatiently, waiting as the computer loaded itself up, complete with whirring and clicking noises as if it was dying. Ikuko didn't like modern technology very much; it was so big and bulky and inelegant, and made such awful noises. That was why she preferred writing with ink rather than a keyboard. Computers just drained all the inspiration out of her. At times, she even had to cover the hideous eyesore up with a blanket when writing so its boxy shape and dull screen didn't distract her.

Her efforts were all for naught, anyway.

She didn't have any e-mails.

Just...

N-no, wait...

Wait a second.

Ikuko's eyes widened slightly.

She did have one.

It was from somebody who called themselves 'WoodenChopsticksGirl'. That e-mail address was kind of familiar. Wasn't she a girl who belonged to the same forum Ikuko had signed up to, on a random whim?

The subject of the message was '_regarding your short mystery story, 'People of Unusual Tastes'.'_

Ikuko felt her heart beat a little faster in her chest; something that rarely happened to her now, given her life was so dull and predictable.

She... really had posted that story online, hadn't she?

Ikuko had tried to publish one of her tales professionally before, but it got shot down. Ikuko was sure her stories were passable- certainly better than the trite romantic nonsense which was so popular nowadays- so that flat-out rejection hurt even more. It stung her pride. It... made her question herself. Was she, who wrote selfishly (she only set pen to paper to stifle her own boredom; she never thought of any potential readers), a good author at all? She didn't need to be a good author, granted, given she didn't need any money. She didn't need to have a job. She could live quite happily, writing only for herself, without any reward. But... that rejection had really wounded her.

How could she, who had never been denied anything in her privlidged life before, cope with something like that?

At first, she had been angry.

Then, she had been upset.

Now, she wanted to forget that embarassing episode had ever happened. She didn't need readers, after all.

So... why had she uploaded that short story to the internet?

Maybe it was because, despite the fact she told herself she was unaffected by that incident, she... really wasn't. And she wanted to hear a few kind words about her stories, instead of a crushing rejection of it.

Or maybe it was just a whim.

Ikuko wasn't sure.

It took her several long moments to compose herself, before she finally had enough resolve to open up that message.

What if it wasn't praise after all? What if it was another scathing critique?

Well... who cared?

The words of a lowly child of man couldn't harm her.

So, even if it was insulting... she didn't care.

She _didn't_.

So why was she trembling?

Her heart still pounding, Hachijo Ikuko began to read- mindful of the viewpoint for another for one of the first times in her life.

_Dear Mr/Miss/Mrs Itokutora,  
><em>

_I recently read your mystery novel, and I have to say, it was… passable. Quite good, in fact. The characters were nicely fleshed out, and I especially liked Fran- she turned out to be quite the unlikely detective (although I could see it coming from a mile away). I assumed the real culprits were, in fact, the victims themselves from a very early stage, unless I was to assume 'magic' was somehow used in your story (which it wasn't). I liked the descriptions, too; it might have bordered on 'horror' for a while there. It's nice to see a mix of mystery and horror, along with character development. The victims seemed a little two-dimensional, but as Fran was the main focus and she was interesting… so I'll let it slide._

_The snowy mountain setting is a little overused, so maybe there was some unoriginality there, though. Next, you'll be setting your stories on a deserted island. I know closed circles are necessary, in some cases, but… Huh. They get a little grating._

_The mystery genre is dying, you know. There aren't any new tricks to write about- so you at least have to make the old ones more interesting. Dress them up a little._

_Even so, I enjoyed this novel. You're a very talented author, and although you're rather unknown at the moment, I hope you don't give up. You shouldn't. I, Furudo Erika, would be very angry with you. I hate it when people give up- especially if they have so much talent._

_So don't waste it. Or I'll stab you in the eye with a pair of chopsticks._

_~WoodenChopsticksGirl  
>a.k.a. Furudo Erika<em>

(Please disregard my childish screen name.)

As Ikuko read the message she, quite unbidden, felt her cheeks flush. T-this girl had read her story and she'd enjoyed it; truly enjoyed it.

She hadn't realized before just how much a few simple words could affect her.

If somebody liked her stories, then she must have been doing something right. Maybe she could post one or two other of her very short stories online, if it would reach other readers, who seemed to enjoy thinking like this girl did. She had never wanted (or needed) to write for fame or money anyway.

But, if it went well...

Maybe she could try and publish a novel officially one more time.

But Ikuko wouldn't give up.

She wouldn't.

All for this one girl who had given her so much hope.

* * *

><p><strong>2212/2011 edit: **Changed whole oneshot (basically) to be canon-compliant as of ep 8 ;3


	164. Teacups

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #164: Teacups

* * *

><p>"Can I go on that one, big bro?"<p>

"W-well, that looks kind of high-"

"Then can I go on that one, big bro?"

"Y-you want to go on _that_? But it looks really fast, and it keeps making these funny noises, and-"

"Then can I at least go on _that_ one, big bro? Can I, can I? Please?"

"Ahh, um… Ahaha… W-well, they keep spinning around, and that looks pretty dangerous!"

"Huh? …Dangerous?"

"Yeah!"

Now Battler had seized on a suitable excuse, his voice got more animated. He even began to move his hands around wildly as he spoke. It was a bad habit that surfaced whenever he was nervous. Such was the violent nature of his gesticulating that a small circle of space soon opened up around him. People were actually jumping out of his way for fear of being hit over the head.

"You know, funfair rides aren't built to hold together too well 'cause they keep getting moved around, so they're kind of unsafe. It's really common to hear things on the news about people falling from these rides and being hurt, even killed, and stuff like that. As your big brother, it's my duty to protect you! I could never let you get hurt, Angey! That's why I think we should just go home! I'm trying to be a responsible big brother, okay? Ihihihi… Y-yeah, that's right- responsible… Heh…"

Little Ushiromiya Ange blinked up at Battler, hands on her hips. Even though she was a teensy-tiny little kid, Battler got the uncomfortable feeling she was actually looking down on him…

"Big brother," said Ange seriously, "I want to ride on the _teacups_. They're not dangerous at all."

"Ahaha… W-well, it's nice you're such a confident girl…"

Battler laughed nervously, face flushing light red, as he ducked his head.

Damn it…

Ange probably thought he was an idiot.

Gaaah! It wasn't his fault his stomach couldn't handle rides. Even the pink and white turning teacups, which moved so slowly they could've been outstripped by a passing tortoise, would've been enough to make Battler feel queasy. The bigger rides Ange had suggested earlier, with _drops_ and _loops _and who knew what else_,_ would have actually killed him.

He'd never recover if he went on one of those.

Stupid motion sickness.

He just _had_ to inherit those genes from his mother, didn't he?

It wasn't fair. When girls acted frail and fragile it was considered 'cute'- but when a huge, six foot tall teenage boy like Battler did, he got laughed at.

Double standards were such a pain.

Battler had only gone to the stupid carnival to make Ange happy. He'd figured, because she was such a frail kid, Ange would have the same hatred for rides as he did.

But he'd figured wrong.

Ange was way more fearless than he was- and she wasn't even half his size.

"Come ooon," said Ange, pouting. "There's no point going to a carnival if we don't go on _any_ rides! That's boring! I wanna have some fun!"

"I-I know, it's just-"

"Look." Ange spoke in her most 'level' tones, in a manner that was very similiar to Kyrie's. "If you get scared I'll even hold your hand, 'kay? Mom held my hand when I went to the dentist last time, and she made it not scary, so it shold work for you, too!"

"Heh... Well, thanks. But even then, A-ange, I don't think-"

"No. No excuses!" Ange stamped her foot on the floor. "If you run away from scary things all the times you'll never get used to 'em! That's what mom said! So have to go on a ride with me, you have to! It won't be scary if I'm with you, 'kay? You'll be fine. There, there; don't cry. I'm here."

Battler winced. W-wasn't he meant to be the big brother here? Since when did he turn into the kid who needed comforting?

But…

Battler couldn't deny it was kind of sweet, seeing Ange trying to protect him.

"Ihihi~ Well, growing up with a woman like Kyrie, no wonder you're so mature, Ange. I think you're more of an adult than that old bas- aah, um, our old man, already."

"Hehe~ Thanks. Now." Ange took hold of Battler's hand, and smiled at him. "Let's go. I won't let go of your hand, 'kay?"

"O-okay…" A sigh. "Aaaah, I'm such an idiot. If it's for my cute sister, I'll do anything."

_Even if it kills me._

…_Which this probably will._

Aaaaah! Useless- it was all useless!


	165. Detective Kyrie concludes a case

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #165: Detective Kyrie concludes a case

* * *

><p>"I guess this is farewell, honey. I'm gonna be gone for a few days, so don't wait up for me, alright?~ Ihihi~"<p>

"Oh, I assure you, I would never do anything like that."

"Hahaha! _Ow!_ You're as feisty as ever. So I guess you're not going to cry into your pillow every night over my absence, huh?"

"Of course not. Crying never solves anything. Instead, I will get a good ten hours' sleep every night, and then I will greet you upon your return looking beautiful and refreshed. I think a reunion like that would make you happier than if I gave you a half-hearted greeting with bags under my eyes."

Rudolf grinned cheerily at Kyrie's words. "Ah, I like it, I like it! What a sensible woman! See- this is why I married you; you always have the best ideas, darling."

Kryie smiled at the compliment; as her husband bent down to kiss her swiftly on her lips. It wasn't the deep, passionate kiss of a Hollywood movie- but it was overflowing with affection, and there was nothing staged about it.

At least, that was what Kyrie wanted to believe.

However…

"It's such a pity," said Kyrie lightly, sighing, as she folded her arms.

Rudolf grinned. "Whaa~aat, that I won't be around to keep you company for the next few days? Yeah- it's truly heartbreaking! How will you survive?"

"No. That's not what I meant."

Kyrie shook her head slowly… and, as she did so, a rather eerie smile began to spread across her face. It was enigmatic, and almost impossible to read- but… it made Rudolf shudder.

That wasn't the sweet smile of a loving wife.

It was… the smile of a _demon_.

All of a sudden, the sweet 'farewell' scene Rudolf had been trying to create turned sour. A heavy rot set into the loving atmosphere, and it splintered apart. After all, being an actress in a sickening scene like that would never suit Kyrie. She was no demure housewife who would unquestioningly wait for her husband's return.

That was why Rudolf loved her.

And, at the same time, it was why he was _terrified_ of her.

"It's a shame you have to go on these long business trips so often," Kyrie said, still smiling coldly. "And not just for my sake, either. You seem to be very popular with other women ias well- and I'm sure they're also very sad that your business keeps you apart from them."

At the mention of 'other women', the color drained from Rudolf's face entirely.

His eyes widened.

His mouth fell open.

H-how did she know…?

B-but… maybe he could still salvage the situation? Yes; he'd just have to distract her. It could work!

"Ah, Kyrie, I think you're mistaken," said Rudolf hurriedly, trying to smooth over Kyrie's doubts with a winning smile and charming tones. "You're the only woman for me, honey, you know."

But Rudolf knew right from the start those words wouldn't have any effect.

Kyrie already knew the truth.

She was twelve times more intelligent than Rudolf, and she wasn't easily tricked.

"Hm? Oh, _that__'__s_ a shame," said Kyrie, smile widening. Tilting her head to the side, she said, voice oh-so-sincere, "Mrs Shiiba would be _so_ upset to hear you say that. I thought you two were rather good friends? Perhaps calling me the 'only woman' for you is a bit of an exaggeration."

"Aah, I… Maybe you're mistaken? I don't know anybody like that, I swear!"

"Then why have you been making so many calls to this woman over the past month? Does she mean so little to you you've forgotten her already? You were only speaking to her yesterday?" Kyrie's lip curled. "Well, I suppose that _must _be the case. After all, you scheduled this business meeting on the exact same week you were supposed to be visiting this woman. She really can't mean all that much to you if you forgot, ahaha~ It's so noble of you, putting work before pleasure like that."

Rudolf winced- openly, this time. He didn't try to hide it. There was no point pretending.

His skill with words, constant flattery and good looks might have distracted other women, but they would never be able to fool Kyrie.

She could see right through him.

"Hihihi. T-that's pretty impressive. How'd you know about that?"

"It wouldn't take a genius, _dear_, to notice that our phone bill has increased by 30% over the past month. I assumed there must be somebody you were _desperate _to talk to- and, being a supportive wife, I worried you might be having troubles with your business. Therefore, I was only being supportive when I checked all the numbers you've been calling this last month. And wouldn't you _imagine_ my surprise when I discovered one certain number that was repeated over and over again… and it belonged to another, single, woman?"

An awkward, uncomfortable smile spread across Rudolf's face. It looked like he was trying not to be sick. "Ahahaha, that's… that's… … pretty good. I'm impressed."

"Thank you. Heh~ Did you expect I wouldn't find out?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't… Heheh. So…" Rudolf laughed sheepishly; unsure of what else to do. Maybe joking light-heartedly was the only defence he had in this situation. "Care to elaborate any more? I'm missing the best bit of the story here! Did you get into a cat fight over the phone with Miss. Shiiba? Did you shout at her, or threaten to claw out her eyes and pull her hair? I lo~ove it when women fight over me like that, ihihi~"

"Oh no, our conversation was nothing like that. Sorry to disappoint you. I was very polite. I spoke to Miss. Shiiba, and learnt that you planned to meet her today- but, very gently, I told her you were going on a business trip (which is what you told me, and I can't imagine you would _ever_ tell me a lie so you could visit another woman, _would__ you __dear?_) so, unfortunately, I had to inform Miss. Shiiba you really couldn't visit her after all. She was very disappointed, but I think she understood. And I also informed her that you're very busy with your work at the moment, so it would be unadvisable for her phone you again. _Ever_ again, in fact. Hehe~" Kyrie giggled lightly; a chilling sound that made Rudolf tremble. "Isn't that a pity?"

"Ahaha… ha… D-damn, you're sharp! Nothing gets past you! You could be a detective."

Kyrie's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh no. In this kind of situation, I'd _far _prefer to be the murderer."


	166. The mystery of the miso soup

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #166: The mystery of the miso soup

* * *

><p>"Ha! I <em>knew<em> it!"

"What did you know, Erika, dear?" asked Erika's mother, smiling genially as she pushed her daughter's breakfast bowl towards her.

Erika was dressed in her school uniform; a short sleeved sailor shirt and skirt. Her hair was tied up in those two cute pigtails, as usual (her mother squealed happily on the inside~ Her adorable daughter looked even more adorable like that!~~), and she had a large smile on her face.

Yuuka, Erika's mother, giggled as her daughter chomped down on her rice; eating with such enthusiasm she got bits of food stuck to her cheeks.

"Hehe~ My little girl's so cuteeee~" Oh, look, you've got rice on yourself~ Let me clean it up, okay?"

"I don't need your help!" Erika proclaimed, snatching the damp tissue from her mother's hands. "I don't need it! I'm a master detective, see?"

"Of course, of course. Sorry, darling!"

"Don't talk to me like that- it sounds like you don't believe me!" said Erika, sticking out her tongue. "I am a detective, okay? See- I knew what we were going to have for breakfast before you even gave it to me! Rice, miso soup and pickes, right?"

"Ahh, that's amazing! My adorable daughter is so smart!" cooed Yuuka, lost in a blissful mothers' fantasy over her incredible child. "How did you know?"

"Well, it was fairly simple," said Erika, sitting herself up a little straighter so she could affect an air of adult maturity. She was only seven, and she was rather short for a seven-year-old, so she always tried to make herself look taller and more important so people would pay more attention to her.

Erika's eyes began to shine, as they so often did when she made deductions, and- even though there were still a few bits of rice stuck to her cheek- she seemed to exude an air of confidence rarely seen in most middle aged men, let alone a young girl.

"Rice is a common staple of any Japanese breakfast, and as we have it every day it easy to guess- following simple routine- we would be having that today. The miso soup is also standard for any Japanese breakfast, but I overheard you telling father yesterday that you had run out of tofu and wakame seaweed so he needed to buy some more for today, and they are key components that make up the miso soup we have in our house. From that conversation, I was able to deduce you would definitely be serving miso soup. As for the pickles, you were given a large jar of them as a present from our neighbour a few days ago, yes? We've been eating them at breakfast every day thus far because the jar is so big and it is taking up space in the fridge. You don't really like pickles, but you want to get rid of them, and it would have been impolite not to accept them. You see?" Erika smiled, her face flushed with pride at her correct deductions. "Simply with that knowledge, this level of reasoning is possible for Furudo Erika! What do you think?"

Yuuka paused for a few moments, her eyes wide.

Then... she began to giggle.

She was filled… with the sudden urge… to grab hold of her daughter… and give her a really, really big hug!

"Kyaaaaah!~ My little daughter is so cute and clever and amazing! Ahh, where did you get your brains from? I want some of them- I want them! I'm jealous, I'm jealous! Kyaaaah!"

"A-ahh! Y-you can't manhandle the great detective like this!" Erika squealed, trying to push her mother away. "You can't! Holmes would never stand for it! Unhand me right nooow!"

"Aww~" Yuuka giggled, rubbing her cheek against Erika's. "I guess this means Miss Great Detective doesn't want an extra helping of miso soup then, hmmnn?~"

Erika pouted, cheeks flushing.

"W-well, I never said _that_…"


	167. Of pirates and pop stars

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been**** So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #167: Of pirates and pop stars

* * *

><p>"Oh man. This situation's gotten <em>seriously <em>out of hand."

Ushiromiya Battler groaned, eyes scanning down the rather 'substantial' (and that was putting it lightly) wish list that Virgilia and Ronove had oh-so-helpfully complied for him.

At first, being Game Master had sounded like a lot of fun- and it'd been fun bossing everybody around… but this was completely ridiculous! How the hell could he write a story featuring a cast of 40 _and_include all their ridiculous and bizarre demands at the same time? There were too many people to juggle around; they couldn't all have starring roles!

But… … he'd gotten carried away- and hadn't he promised he'd try to write whatever weird scenes people wanted?

Giving Gohda a huge fight with kitchen utensils?

Letting Kumasawa be killed of tragically in a tear-jerking scene that lasted 50,000 characters?

Making Eva-Beatrice parade around in a short skirt and twin tails whilst trying murder everybody with magic even more malicious than before?

A cute flashback in the middle of all the murders showing Uncle Krauss throwing a snowball at Natsuhi, which split open to reveal an engagement ring?

What the hell? Wouldn't that create a serious mood whiplash? How would he ever be able to include that?

And what about that scene with George and Shannon? Jessica's fight? Genji's mysterious James Bond-esque back story?

Damn it, there were too many people- waaaaay too many people! How on earth had Beato been able to put these stories together so seamlessly? It was almost impossible!

Gaaaah! Useless, it was all useless!

"Oh my. Are you alright, Battler?"

"I'm not entirely sure. The fact he's repeatedly beating his head against the table would seem to signify otherwise, pu ku ku~"

"Mm, I suppose so. Poor thing. Ohohoho~"

Battler looked up at Virgilia and Ronove tearfully. His chin rested atop his desk, fingers fisting in his hair with such strength he was in danger of tearing it straight from his scalp.

"Hey, guys…" Battler moaned, "you're mature and responsible and stuff, right?"

Virgilia giggled, cupping her face with her hands. "Oh my, you flatter me."

"Indeed. I never imagined the day would arrive when Battler would call _me_ helpful. It's almost like a dream come true, pu ku ku~ Though I suppose his opinion on us has changed to become more courteous given he wants our help."

"Ngh… W-well, it's not like that… Ihihi… hi… hi…"

Virgilia looked at Battler with half-lidded eyes, and Ronove raised a brow.

…Damn it. There was no fooling them.

Battler winced. Was he really that transparent?

"Oh, fine! Fine, fine! It's true! I want your help! I _need_ your help!" Battler shouted, without even an ounce of pride. "You guys were by Beato's side when she made the first four games, right? That means you know the mechanics of them, and how to put them together?"

Virgilia said, "Hm... A little."

Battler's eyes welled up with hope. "W-well then! Can you give me some pointers? I have too many characters to place on the board and not enough space for them all! Gaaaah! If I don't get it sorted out it'll all be useless! I don't want Erika to beat me by default because I couldn't think up a decent game for her to get her grubby hands on!"

"Hm, that would be problematic. I certainly don't want Miss Erika to win, either; not based on a mere technicality… I suppose we will have to help, won't we, Miss Virgilia?"

"It seems like it." Virgilia sighed, folding her arms. "But I must say, I am very disappointed in this child for abusing his status as the Game Master so."

"Yes. I saw Miss Lucifer earlier, and she looked rather flustered and embarrassed…" Ronove's smile was still light and pleasant, but Battler detected a definite disapproving hint in there.

Battler gulped.

This… wasn't going to be good.

"It's quite unseemly when a man takes advantage of a woman in such a way. Don't you agree, Miss Virgilia?"

"Oh yes. Whole-heartedly."

Damn it…

Now they sounded like protective parents. Battler knew just how scary parents could be when their children were threatened. What was it Kumasawa said? Bears were always more fierce when their cubs were in danger?

Virgilia might have been a calm and composed woman, but she could summon spears from the air at will. Battler didn't want to piss her off. That'd be like signing his own death warrant!

"A-aha, ihihi… H-hey, come on… I-I'm… sorry about all that stuff! I-I'll apologize to Luci, okay? Just… Aaaah, I'll do anything! Just help me out! I'm begging you!"

"Well… Alright," said Virgilia slowly. "But we won't give you our advice for free, you know."

"What do you want? My soul? Take it; I'll die anyways if I don't get the next game finished!"

"Oh no, I don't want your soul. I'd have nowhere to put it," said Virgilia lightly. She was smiling… but it was a smile that made Battler's skin crawl, as though centipedes were tracking up and down his back. "Hehe~ You know, even I have a request I would like you to incorporate into the next game."

"A request? Is that it? Y-yeah, that's cool; it's perfectly okay! What do you want?"

Virgilia giggled, and said, "Oh, nothing much~ It's just… That disrespectful Gaap, and even that troublesome child, keep calling me an old woman- and I find that very hurtful. I want to prove I'm not an old woman. Yes! That's right!" Clasping her hands at her chest, Virgilia said, in a rather theatrical manner that didn't suit her, "I want to become a cute J-Pop idol in the next game, just like Outsuka Ai!"

It was a good thing Battler hadn't been drinking anything when Virgilia made her request, or he would've spat it all out over the table.

V-virgilia, a J-Pop idol? What the hell was up with thaaaat?

"If that's too much trouble, it doesn't have to be J-Pop," said Virgilia, smiling. "It could be heavy metal instead. I always wanted to learn how to play the guitar, and I've been practising my death growls. I need to be able to shout to get Beato to listen to me, hehehe~"

"That's quite understandable, pu ku ku~ I'm sure you'd sound lovely no matter what musical styling you decided to pursue."

"Thank you! Ohohoho!~"

Battler stared at Virgilia and Ronove in horror, as they both giggled together like friends sharing a private joke. Battler couldn't join in. He was far too stressed out to laugh right now.

Instead, he felt like he was going to burst into tears.

"And what do you want?" Battler asked Ronove, a resigned look on his face. "Do _you_ wanna be a J-Pop idol, too?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. My fantasies are not the same as Miss Virgilia's. They're slightly more heroic~ Rather… I would like to become the captain of a pirate ship that voyages to the end of the earth, pu ku ku~"

…

…

_Boom!_

And that was, officially, the sound of Battler's brain imploding.

The poor, despairing Game Master- who had long since learnt his new job wasn't all it was cracked up to be- fell forwards once more, forehead smacking against his desk. This time, he didn't get up.

Virgilia gently prodded him on the head. He didn't even move.

"Oh my… Perhaps we teased him a little too much." She sighed. "Not that he didn't deserve it."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Based on the Game Master Battler TIP XD~  
>Initially, I wasn't going to involve Battler with the meta crowd in this collection, but then I figured… why not. There's no real reason not to. Also, I found a manga adaptation of the GM Battler TIP, and it's awesome, even though it's in chinese and I can't read a word... XD; But they made Ronove and Virgilia look so hilarious and adorable I don't even o:<br>bbs.4hun . net/thread-26447-1-2 . html

**~renahhchen ****xoxo**


	168. Shooting the breeze

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has ****Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #168: Shooting the breeze

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is alright?"<p>

"Of course it's alright; I said you could do it. Why are you trying to question me? Aren't you my servant? Aren't I your Master? Don't waste your breath with such useless words."

"Ah, um... I understand." Kanon nodded, bowing his head- though the uneasy expression did not flicker from his face.

Kinzo only smirked as he watched Kanon's displeasure. "Oh? Am I to believe you have some misgivings? I thought boys your age were fascinated by guns and violence."

"It never really crossed my mind, Sir…"

Kinzo snorted. With a voice full of amusement, and what may have been a slight hint of nostalgia, he said, "Rudolf and Krauss loved Western films when they were children. They'd beg and beg me if they could use one of the Winchesters from my collection. After all, they do say Winchester rifles are the guns that won the West… Anthony Mann even directed the movie, Winchester '73, to commemorate the Winchester… Now, _that _was when they knew to make good movies. That was a movie worth paying money to see- unlike the nonsense that gets churned out nowadays. Have you ever seen it?"

Kanon could only shake his head, feeling quite out of his depth with this conversation. He knew no more about guns than he did about the life cycle of axolotls. Were topics like this really something boys were meant to be interested in?

Kinzo's moods were quite fickle, and Kanon was briefly worried he'd be scolded for his lack of knowledge However, Kinzo didn't seem angry at all. Instead, he only laughed, and patted Kanon on the shoulder- in an almost fatherly manner.

"Well, maybe that's only be expected. I think the '50s are a bit beyond your time. But some incredible Western movies were made then; you're missing out if you don't try and make time for them."

"Yes, sir. I will try to find time to see them, if you wish."

"Ahaha~ How nice. It would be nice to have somebody to discuss one of my hobbies with. Genji and I don't see eye-to-eye on the matter of Western movies; he prefers Henry Fonda to John Wayne; can you imagine?"

"If I may make a suggestion… why don't you discuss these matters with Master Krauss or Rudolf? You said they enjoyed Western films too. I apologize if I am overstepping my boundaries, but they would surely know more about it than me."

"Hm? Talk to those two blockheads? Now, why would I want to do that?"

"They are your family, Sir."

"Bah." Kinzo shook his head. "What is family to a man like me? They're just vultures after my fortune. Even as children, they only ever wanted things from me; selfish, so selfish! I already told you- Rudolf and Krauss would beg if they could play with my collection of Winchesters. I've always thought these beautifully crafted firearms were too complicated for those fools to use properly; why, Krauss would probably shoot himself in the foot out of sheer idiocy, and Rudolf is far irresponsible to handle a dangerous weapon. I know how he acted with his women later on, what with that scandal involving Asumu and Kyrie. Humph. If that lecherous fool treats guns as he treats women, he'd reduce my collection to ruins. No- I couldn't trust them with something like this at all!"

Kanon didn't like asking questions. It was impertinent for a servant. However, he couldn't hide his confusion. The weight of the .410 bore Winchester shotgun was heavy in his hands- even if it was the smallest shotgun in Kinzo's collection, and the most useful for hunting fowl and rabbits.

However, the questions circulating through Kanon's brain were even heavier.

"Then why are you entrusting me with one of your precious guns, Sir, if you would not even let your children have them?"

"Because you're not a fool like Krauss or Rudolf. You seem to have some gumption to you. Yes- if I had an intelligent child like you, I would be a proud father indeed. Instead, what did I get? A family of morons, the whole lot of them. They're not worth my time. And I thought you might be." Kinzo laughed, shaking his head. "Perhaps Kumasawa is right. The best medicine for old age is attempting to talk those from the younger generation. Or maybe this was a whim. But, in any case, I am talking to you right now- and that is all that matters."

Kanon didn't quite understand Kinzo's words, and perhaps he had no right to try and understand. After all, he was only furniture. However… despite Kinzo's laughter, he didn't sound happy.

Maybe… there was a bit of loneliness in his voice.

This was a man who'd deliberately estranged himself from his family; his wife, his children, and even his grandchildren. They all saw him as 'that bizarre old man' who had sudden, violent mood swings and an unhealthy interest in the occult. They all feared him, and respected him- but it would probably be untrue to say they actually loved him.

The siblings loved Kinzo's fortune more than the man himself.

And, even to furniture like Kanon, that was… a little sad.

Kanon didn't know Kinzo very well, but he knew Kinzo the demon everybody pretended he was. Neither was Kinzo insane. He… might have been lonely.

And that was why he was talking Kanon.

Kanon was one of the only people who didn't shy away from him in fear- so he was one of the only people Kinzo could talk to on friendly terms.

"Alright, Sir," said Kanon, nodding. "I understand. I've never shot a gun before, but I suppose... it might be fun… learning how."

"That's the spirit. I trust you, at least, won't shoot yourself in the foot like that buffoon Krauss did."

"Master Krauss really did shoot himself? I thought you were joking."

"Oh yes, he really did. He broke into my collection of guns and was trying to show off, as per usual… And, also as per usual, his arrogance didn't end well. That cretin. The look of pain on his face as he hopped about pathetically on one foot, screaming, was enough to convince not to box his ears; he'd obviously learnt his lesson already. My wife was hysterical, of course… but Eva thought it was the funniest things she had ever seen in her life. I must say, it is one point where I would be inclined to agree with her." And then Kinzo laughed.

And, although he really had no right to do so, being only furniture… Kanon couldn't help but smile himself… just a little.

Spending time with Kinzo like this wasn't really that bad after all.

It was a shame nobody else seemed to realize that.


	169. Respect the elderly, part 1

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #169: Respect the elderly, part 1

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bea~to~ What're you doing?"<p>

"Baking."

"Yeah. Baking _badly_. Ronove's gonna be sooo pissed at you when he sees the kitchen is covered with flour~ Well, not pissed, 'cause, yanno, he never gets angry, but he'll give you this _look_ that makes you feel about _this _big and you'll feel really bad! Ohohohoho- h-hey!"

Lambdadelta squealed childishly, as Beatrice- equally childishly- stuck out her tongue and flicked her flour-covered fingers in Lambda's face. The white powder exploded in mid-air, and dusty white clouds swirled through the air like snow, allll landing on Lambdadelta's face. She hadn't moved away quickly enough.

"You're so immature!" Lambdadelta wailed. "Haven't you forgotten who your elders and betters are, Beaaa~to? Haven't you forgotten to be thankful that I gave you your powers?"

"Oh yes… I _am_ thankful. And that's why I've been baking."

Beatrice grinned; and it was truly incredible how that kid was able to look so threatening, even whilst wearing a pink apron (one of Ronove's?), her hair tied up in pigtails, hands covered in dough and face with flour.

At times like this, when Lambda saw those delightfully twisted expressions on Beato's face, she couldn't help but flush with pride. Truly, she hadn't been wrong to grant Beato's wish! Beato would definitely be an _awesome_, _pop _and _cuuuute _witch!~

Even if she couldn't keep the kitchen tidy to save her life.

"Oooh! You've been baking cookies for me?" asked Lambda. "I want, I want! Even if they suck- which they _will_, I can state with certainty the _will_- I want!~"

"Ufufufu~ I think they're done now. Wait patiently, Lady Lambdadelta, and you'll taste something so delicious your head falls off!"

"Yeah, it just might. I bet you've poisoned them. Have you poisoned them?"

"Who, meee? Why would I do something like thaaaat? Kihihihi~ These cookies are merely to show my appreciation towards the wonderful Lady Lambdadelta who helped me become a wiiiitch, kihihihi~"

And, just like that, Lambda's suspicions about poison were instantly soothed by praise. She was a pretty simple kid, and she like having her ego inflated. She was kind of like a cat. No matter how grumpy they got, if you scratched them behind the ears and put them by a warm fire, they'd instantly be placated.

Besides, Beato would never try and poison Lambdadelta, the much feared Witch of Certainty.

If she did, Lambdadelta would skin her, use her as a new coat, and then parade her down the streets of Paris as a brand new fashion. She totally would; Lambdadelta was scary like that.

"Ooh, well, if the cookies are an offering of thanks, I guess I'll have to try them!~ I mean, the Aztecs would be sooooo sad if they ever learned the gods they offered their sacrifices to didn't really caaare, so I have to accept your cookies so you don't get disheartened! Hmm, now let's see here…"

Lambdadelta placed a fingertip to her lower lip and tilted her head to one side, surveying the tray of misshapen, lumpy, off-color 'cookies' Beatrice had just pulled from the oven.

"Aaah, they all look so horrible, I couldn't possibly choose one~ But I can't turn down free food; not from my cuuuute pupil! Aaah, I know, I know! I'll close my eyes and pick one at random, just like- so!"

And so she did.

Lambdadelta had been right, of course. The cookie was just as horrible as she had expected; burnt on the outside and raw dough in the middle. In fact, it was so awful, Beato had created a kind of masterpiece. Lambda wasn't the best chef in the world, but she'd have to seriously **try** to create something this disgusting. Apparently, to Beato, it came naturally.

That was probably why she got Ronove to cook for her- so she wouldn't starve to death.

Huh. It wasn't fair, though. Why couldn't Beato have listened to Virgilia more? She might've learnt all Virgilia's skills and tricks when it came to magic, but Beato was blissfully ignorant about any of the nice, homey things Virgilia excelled at. Beato was messy and untidy, she couldn't sew at all, her drawings looked like drunken spiders playing tag and her cooking…

_Euurgh._

It was a good thing Lambda had such a firm stomach; strengthened by eating too much sugar.

"Yeah… It was kind of the worst thing I've put in my mouth ever," was Lambdadelta's eventual verdict, as she pulled a face. "But I appreciate the sentiments. I can't be angry at you, Beato, when you tried her best, all for meee~ I like people that work hard, you know?~ Hehehe~"

"Well, these cookies aren't _all_ for you."

"Ooh, reaaally? You're not gonna find anybody else kind-hearted enough to eat them, Beato. Even Beelze would turn her nose up at those."

"No, Teacher and Ronove will eat them- I guarantee it. Despite what they say, they're totally soft-hearted, kihihi~ And, after all… I made these cookies for a special occasion. They can't refuse, ufufu~"

"Special occasion?~ Can't the special occasion be 'Appreciate Lady Lambdadelta's Amazing-ness' Day?~"

"No." Beatrice smirked. "I made them specially for Respect the Aged Day."

"Oh. That's nice."

And then, Lambdadelta blinked.

She pondered.

And, as Beatrice cackled… Lambdadelta _glared._

"Hey! Why'd you give me those cookies? I'm not _**old**_! I'm cute and young and pretty!"

"You're a lot older than me~ Heeeey, don't you think it's time you acted your age and stopped wearing those stupid clothes, Lady Lambdadeltaaa? At least Teacher dresses modestly! Kikikikikikyahaha!~"

Lambdadelta's face turned red, and she clenched her fingers into fists.

"U-urgh… Y-you brat! Beato is a brat! I-I'm gonna teach you how to **properly **respect your elders! Get back here and let me curse you! I'll make all your hair fall out- and I do mean, **alllll ****of ****it**! Beaaaatriiiceeeeee!"


	170. Respect the elderly, part 2

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #170: Respect the elderly, part 2

* * *

><p>"My, my. This is a pleasant surprise."<p>

"Yep. I'm surprised too. I didn't realize I was gonna come here until a while ago," said Lambdadelta, looking about her surroundings with distaste.

Oak floorboards; floral wallpaper; over-stuffed chairs; shelves upon shelves of books; clutter everywhere… Yep, she really was in _that _place, wasn't she? It was so old-fashioned and funny-smelling and totally _un_-cute Lambda felt quite out of her depth.

"Ah, so this visit was an unplanned one? How nice; I hate plans myself. It's more interesting living life by the spur of the moment, hehe~ Is there any particular reason why you decided to pay me a visit, though?"

"Beato gave me an idea."

"Oh?~ You mean the new Golden Witch? I haven't had the pleasure of talking to her yet."

"Yeah, well, good. We all know what happens when you interact with people. You keep the hell away from my cute apprentice, you evil old hag."

Featherine Augustus Aurora laughed pleasantly, rocking back in her chair. She'd been called so many things throughout the centuries- most of them unpleasant- that insults just rolled off her. She was never one to care about others' opinions; and even if she did, she'd just giggle, and say 'how interesting!' In a sense, she enjoyed being badmouthed. It kept her entertained.

The real way to annoy Featherine would have been to ignore her altogether. Unfortunately, Lambdadelta was too emotional to do that- so she could never truly upset Featherine. Instead, her visits only staved away her surmounting boredom.

"It's a good thing you're a witch, Lady Lambdadelta, or I'd take great delight in cutting out your tongue and feeding it to my cat~ But rudeness can be refreshing too. Continued praise and respect makes one grow so weary."

"Pfft. Like you would know. All the other witches hate your guts."

"I'm honored to be so notorious, then~ But surely you don't hate me, Lady Lambdadelta. You've even brought me some tea!"

"Yeah, well. Beato told me it was Respect the Aged Day or something, aaaaand I thought, who's the oldest person I know? Why- it's that old bag, Aguauau!~ She's been alive sooo long she can probably remember when hoop skirts were in fashion! She's even older than Methuselah! So why not give her a present to celebrate this happy day? Aaaand… Tadaaa!~ I made you some tea."

"Aah? Respecting the aged? I imagine this is some sort of human custom. I should feel offended at being called as such- but I've never experienced this holiday before. Instead, I'm intrigued, hahaha~ I suppose I should try some of your tea… But, first…"

Featherine picked up the cup of plum tea Lambda had made for her- and, callously…

"H-hey, what are you doing?"

"Just watering the plants, Lady Lambdadelta. Do excuse me; I'm a bit scatterbrained, so I sometimes forget to clean up my house. I only just remembered. It's so embarassing when guests come over to find my home needs tidying!"

And Featherine tipped the tea out of the cup.

She tipped the tea out all over a potted plant beside her.

Instantly, the poor plant began to wither and decay. Its leaves crumbled into ash, and the lively green color was forcefully sapped from its stem. Soon, it resembled a pile of soot and dust and cinders from a fireplace; nothing more. Whatever life that had once resided in that already gently-dying, under-watered plant, was now gone.

Featherine smiled at the decayed plant and said 'aha~', as though her theories in a mystery novel had just been proved correct.

She wasn't surprised at all.

Lambdadelta, meanwhile, pouted and folded her arms.

"You know, it's bad manners to throw away a present in front of the giver's eyes. Couldn't you least do it behind my back?"

"Forgive me for my rudeness, then… But I believe it's also bad manners to try and poison the person you're giving the present to; and in their own house, no less~" said Aurora lightly, still smiling.

"… …Tch. Guess you got me that time, you old crone."

"Mmhm. I know how much you dislike me; especially after what happened to my poor miko…"

"We've been through this a thousand times, but don't call Bern 'yours'. She's _not_. And don't say 'after what happened' all enigmatic-like as if you don't know; you threw her in that logic error with your own hands, Aguauau! Take some responsibility, or I'll do to you what you just did to that plant!"

"Heh. I can tell, from your tone of voice, I was right. You really do hate me after what I did to Bernkastel, don't you?~"

"Oooh. _However_did you guess?"

"I'm very intuitive~ If you want to kill me, you'll have to try harder next time. It was a valiant effort, though. I'd give it a six out of ten just for cheek. Hehe~ Better luck next time." Featherine shrugged almost apologetically. Then, out of thin air, she pulled a tea set of her own; a teapot, and two cups. "Shall we have a nice, non-lethal tea party to celebrate my old age now, hmm?"

There was a small silence.

Then, Lambdadelta sighed.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I've always wanted to have tea with a homicidal maniac."

"Thank you~ The pleasure is all mine!"

Bleh. Maybe, thought Lambda, with the use of some wit and cunning, she'd be able to poison Featherine's tea (properly) when her back was turned or something.

Besides… Lambda needed something to drink.

She still had to wash the taste of Beato's cookies from her mouth.


	171. Baba yaga

**Being**** Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So ****Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #171: Baba Yaga

* * *

><p>"And you know what happened then?"<p>

"What?" asked Rosa, eyes wide, as she huddled up all nice and toasty under her duvet. "What happened next, big bro?"

"Well…"

Rudolf paused for dramatic effect. He couldn't have timed it better. A sudden bolt of thunder struck outside; the harsh light seeping through the heavy curtains in Rosa's bedroom and momentarily turning everything white. Even Rosa turned white. Her whole body trembled.

Suddenly, her nice, warm duvet didn't seem so safe anymore.

Smiling, his teeth razor sharp (all the better to eat you with), Rudolf reached forwards with his fingers outstretched, casting elongated shadows against the wall-

"Baba Yaga grabbed hold of the small child and _**ate **__**her **__**up**_!"

"Kyahhhhhhh!"

-and Rudolf began to mercilessly tickle his baby sister.

"Eeep! H-have mercy!"

"_Never_!"

"No, h-help! Help! I-I can't, I… eep…! Kyaaa!"

"What on _earth _is all this noise about?"

The sound of the bedroom door slamming, plus Eva's angry voice, was enough to make both Rudolf and Rosa sober up at once. They looked at Eva timidly, as though they were staring down a dragon.

…Actually, Eva was scarier than a dragon.

Dragons generally couldn't lecture you on the pride of the Ushiromiya family, etcetera, etcetera, before they ate you.

"Oh, hey. It's my favourite big sis," said Rudolf, smiling his charming smile. "What're you doing?"

"I was _trying _to study, but _some _people were making a lot of noise."

"That's dreadful! I hope you tell them to stop being so rude."

Eva's left eye twitched. "That's just what I was going to do. Rudolf, it's nice you offered to play with Rosa a little, but you're a member of the _Ushiromiya __family_, you have to be-"

"-more respectable, mature, perfect, boring, unable to have fun, yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, you've told me enough times."

"It may be funny to you _now_, but when you grow up you'll realize the real value of hard work!" Eva snapped. "Well… I suppose, in the end, _I__'__ll _be the one laughing when I'm running a rich, successful company and you're my lackey~"

Rudolf gave a fake shudder. "Perish the thought."

"Now stop messing around with Rosa and tell her to get to sleep. _You_ might be a complete failure, but I don't want you to be a bad influence on our little sister."

And with that, Eva stuck her nose up in the air and left.

She banged the door behind her as she did so.

"Uu…" said Rosa softly, hugging her blankets to her chest. "Did we get shouted at…?"

"Just a little! It's nothing I can't handle."

"The story you told me was really scary... B-but I think Eva is scarier!"

"Scarier than Baba Yaga, the baby eating witch?"

Rosa nodded earnestly.

Rudolf laughed, ruffling Rosa's hair roughly.

"You know, I think you might be right. Eva's so terrifying they couldn't even mention a being like her in any of your fairytales, heheh~"


	172. Pick up the stitches

**Being ****Dysfunctional ****Has**** Never ****Been ****So**** Much ****Fun  
><strong>Short #172: Pick up the stitches

* * *

><p>"O-ow! Be a little more careful, Bern!"<p>

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you rather I left you with your arms still unattached? If you don't want them, I could just give them to Erika as back-scratchers."

With a small, cruel smile, Bern plucked one of Lambda's arms off the bed. It had been trying to drag itself away by the fingers, like some weird insect, but it wasn't very fast; not when it had been severed clean from Lambda's body. As a rule of thumb, limbs were far more functional when stuck to their owners' bodies. By themselves, they were kind of useless. Bern caught it easily- and, none-too-gently, jabbed it with the needle she had been using to sew Lambda's legs back to her torso.

Lambda wailed in pain and glared sourly up at her nurse, Bern.

"Oh, now this is interesting. How can your brain register pain happening to this arm, I wonder? It's not even attached to you. Maybe I should experiment."

"I-I'm not an rat in a lab, Bern, I'm your adorable girlfr- owww!"

Another jab with the needle.

Bern wasn't, Lambda decided, a very good nurse.

Then again, what had she been expecting? For Bern to pat her head and feed her kompeito candy?

Yeah; this violent nature was totally Bern all over. It suited her more than kindness did.

"B-berrrrn!"

And another.

"B-bern, _stop __it __right __now_!"

Bern raised a brow. "What's wrong? I'm just being helpful."

Lambda pouted. "Nooo, you're being _mean_. It's all your fault my _awesome, __cute_and _pop _arm got cut off in the first place; you could at least try saying 'I'm sorry!' Uu, it's no good; it's no good at aaaall! You're so horrible to me, Bern!"

"Huh?" Bernkastel blinked slowly; purple irises boring into Lambda's. She tilted her head to one side slowly- and Lambda might have expected Bern was making fun of her… but she seemed genuinely confused. "I'm sewing you back together, aren't I? I could have left you a pathetic, limbless torso for the rest of eternity, but I didn't. Isn't that enough?"

A sigh. "Yeah, but you could be a bit _nicer_ about it. You haven't even apologized."

"I don't apologize."

"Because you don't really care."

A shadow crossed over Bern's face, and her features contorted into a rather ugly look. Fingers squeezing Lambda's wrist so tightly it hurt (even if that wrist wasn't attached to Lambda's body), she said, voice hard as iron, "Don't say that. It's not funny. Not even as one of your stupid 'jokes'."

"H-huh…? Bern…?"

There was a small silence; broken only by the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in Featherine's study, and Bern's breathing. It sounded like Bern was trying to reign her emotions in; something that happened so rarely it was almost a miracle in itself. Bernkastel's face was usually so impassive and unchanging sometimes Lambda forgot Bern could pull any expressions other than her small, trademark frown.

That fight from earlier had torn that mask away, though… and it looked like Bern still didn't quite have her façade under control.

It was true Bernkastel had been trying to kill Lambda without any restraint- but now she was trying to piece the broken Witch of Certainty back together again. Bern didn't usually fix the toys she broke. Wasn't a small action like this- even though it was horribly painful - proof enough that Bern really was sorry?

Maybe it was cruel to force Bern to apologize verbally, then.

"Heh… ehehehe…"

"W-what are you laughing at?"

"Oh, nothing…"

Lambdadelta smiled to herself; and though that smile became strained, and she muttered a small 'ngggh', as Bern unceremoniously laced the first stitch through the severed stump of her left arm, the flickering feeling of happiness inside her didn't vanish.

Bern… really did love her.

She was just a shy kid who wasn't good at expressing her feelings, that was all- and that was why she was trying to hurt Lambda when she sewed her up. It was because she was embarrassed.

Lambda giggled- and each painful stitch through her arm only seemed to say, clearly, 'I-I don't like you, o-okay, where'd you get that idea? I-I'm doing this because I _like_you…!'

"Eheh~ Bern… You're so cute and tsuntsun. I'm lucky to have a best friend like y- o-owee! Be careful with that needle, okay? I'm a delicate flower! You're hurting me!"

"That's what you get for saying stupid things, you idiot. If you don't be quiet I'll sew your mouth shut, too, and tear this arm right off again."

"No you won't. After all… …" Lambda smiled brightly; light-hearted optimism flowing from her words. "How I would be able to hug or kiss you like that?~"

* * *

><p><strong>an:** So I've been (slowly) trying to correct spelling errors, poor wording & wonky characterization in some of these stories, as well as stories that conflict with canon. I changed #163 almost completely, #40 was changed a little, and I made a few edits in other one shots, but nothing overly important XD  
>I haven't forgotten any of the requests I have, and I will try to get them done ^^;;<p>

**~renahhchen**** xoxo**


	173. Snow bunnies and snowmen

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #173: Snow bunnies and snowmen

* * *

><p>"Mama, mama! Can we go to the park and build a big, big snowman?"<p>

"Not now, Maria. Mama's busy."

"But Mama, you promised, you promised! I even bought a carrot for his nose, even bought a carrot!"

"I know, Maria, and I'm sorry, but I really am busy." Rosa groaned; running one hand through her hair, whilst the other tapped the butt of her pencil against the table. She was trying very, very hard not to lose her patience. "Mama is trying to figure out how to pay all these horrible electricity bills. You'll have to be a good girl and give me some space, okay?"

Maria's lower lip quivered. Her head hung.

"B-but, Mama…"

"Maria, _please_. Stop being so selfish!" Rosa's grip on the pencil tightened. "These bills are **important**. Do you want to spend Christmas without any lights or TV, or even any running water? Is that you want?"

"Uu… N-no, but-"

"There is no 'but'. Leave me alone!"

Maria couldn't argue back. The look in her Mama's face… i-it was really scary. Was it normal to find her Mama so scary?

No…

This wasn't her mother.

It was the evil black witch.

Maria knew. This wasn't her mother. Her real mother was fighting against the black witch; trying to keep her from slapping Maria across the face, or bashing her head against the doorframe, or hurting her flesh with that pencil- as she surely wanted to do.

Maria's Mama was trying her best to pay those nasty, mean bills, which made the black witch mean and nasty too, and Mama was doing this all for Maria. Maria couldn't be selfish.

She couldn't.

Even if Christmas was a holiday time…

And her mother had promised.

Hadn't her Mama said that they would make a snowman together, at least once? Hadn't she said they would have snowball fights, and draw pictures in the snow with their fingertips, and play around under their fingers were rubbed red raw, then sit inside and have hot chocolate with marshmallows and watch TV by the fire? Wasn't that what Mama said?

Maria had waited eagerly for it to start snowing; enthusiastically staring out her bedroom window every morning in the hopes of seeing snow. She wanted it to snow so she could spend time with her Mama.

But… Maria wouldn't be sad.

She wouldn't be selfish.

She wouldn't cry, or complain, or even say 'uu, uu', and she wouldn't be a burden.

She would make her own entertainment.

She could still make a snowman, even without Mama.

She could have fun all by herself… and when Mama saw her having fun, she would want to have fun with Maria, too.

Then everybody would be happy.

* * *

><p>"U-uryu, Maria, it tickles! It tickles…!"<p>

"Just hold still, Sakutaro! Snowmen don't move!"

"But I'm not a snowman, I'm not, uryu!"

"I don't know, nihihi~ You look all white and pasty to meee~"

Maria and Chiester 410 giggled together as they looked at Sakutaro. Maybe he looked more like an Egyptian mummy dressed up for Winter than a snowman, with all that white toilet paper rolled round and round his body and his scarf round his neck, but he still looked adorable.

He was Maria's own snowman; one that she had 'built' inside her bedroom.

This way, Mama didn't have to be angry.

This way, Maria didn't have to be sad.

This way, everybody was happy… … right?

"Lady Maria?" asked 00 softly. "Are you… okay…?"

"H-huh?"

Maria blinked in surprise; wiping her cheeks with her hands.

She didn't realize she'd been crying. Not until it was pointed out to her.

"Lady Maria, if there's anything I can do for you, um, I, I, I…" stuttered 45, cheeks turning the same color as her hair. "U-um, I-I-I might be a rather useless rabbit w-w-without many skills, b-but if I could make you smile I-I would, um, try my best! So, what are my orders? Um…" She winced; beginning to stutter out of nerves, as her tail twitched slightly. "I could play an instrument for you, b-because I'm a rabbit from the forest band, or I-I could, um, I-I… I… I-Ieeeyaaah!"

"Yes, there iiiiis something you can do, so stop stuttering!" 410 suddenly declared, throwing a roll of toilet paper at 45's head. It bounced off it with a light _thunk_. "You can act like Lady Maria's friend."

"F-friend?"

"Mm. Whhhy are you asking for 'orders'? Friends don't order each other around, nyeheheh."

"I believe that is correct," said 00, nodding.

"E-eh? D-did I, um… D-did I mess up?" squeaked 45, face red. She bowed her head in apology. "I-I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I'm-"

"Hehe~ 45, you're so silly," said Chiester 556. There was a small smile on her face- and she held another roll of toilet paper in her hands. "Why don't we turn you into a cute snow bunny as a punishment?"

410 smiled deviously. "Oooh, **that's **a good idea, nihihi!"

556 flushed with pride, happy her bright idea had been praised by her superior. "T-thank you very much!"

00 tilted her head to one side in thought… and then nodded.

"I suppose you could wrap her up. Just make sure to leave her ears in tact. They're quite sensitive."

"Yeah!~ Even 00's getting into the holiday spirit, nyeheh!"

"U-um? I-is that what you want? I-is it really?" 45 stuttered hopelessly, wringing her hands together before her chest. Her whole body trembled. "I-I-I, I… I-if it's an order, I-I can't back out, b-but… b-but... … P-please be gentle with me, okay?"

410 only grinned eerily, snatching the roll of toilet paper from 556.

"Of cooourse I'll be gentle. I'll be as gentle as a hammerhead shark attacking its prey, nihihi!~"

"T-t-t-that's not very gentle at all! N-nooo! S-stop it, s-stop tickling me, kyaaaaaah!"

Maria blinked, watching 410 attack 45. 556 was laughing as she watched the cute spectacle. Calm as always, 00 was slowly- methodically- beginning to wrap up 45's right arm.

What a warm family scene…

It was so warm Maria's own icy sadness, which had encased her heart, began to melt.

She smiled.

…And the poor, forlorn little girl began to laugh.

"Uryu? Maria? You're… okay… …?" asked Sakutaro, blinking up at his best friend.

"Mmm. I'm fine, Saku-snowman," said Maria, patting him on the head. "I was being silly, eheheh… Playing with friends is more fun than playing with snow. So, I'm happy. I'm happy I got to spend time with you all. And I get to make lots of cute snow bunnies now too, kihihihi~"

Maria wasn't sure why she'd been crying before…

But she wasn't going to cry again.

Not when she had so much to be thankful for.


	174. Closer to the heart

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #174: Closer to the heart

* * *

><p>It wasn't that Ikuko hated Christmas. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She found the whole holiday rather ingenious indeed; perhaps even more brilliant than the most taxing of closed room murders.<p>

Christmas was a carefully constructed holiday based on Christian religion, but had been thoroughly modernized and adapted throughout the years. Now, it was all about presents. People liked to spout age-old aphorisms that Christmas was about 'family', and maybe these people truly believed that- but Ikuko, who had never been very close to her 'family', didn't believe it.

Ikuko cut the heart out of Christmas entirely.

Christmas wasn't about 'family'. It was about selling large quantities of food and crackers and cards and wrapping paper and woolly socks.

Christmas was all about the exchange of money.

The shops won.

The general public lost.

Oh, how they lost.

Ikuko was only glad she didn't have any friends or family, so she was spared the need to throw money away on cards and gifts.

She was one of the few lucky people would could avoid Christmas entirely- for even the critics of Christmas were roped into buying presents to save face in front of their loved ones.

Ikuko didn't need to save face in front of anyone.

The only person she truly cared for was her cat, Bern, and Bern didn't understand human customs. Bern was happy to receive one of those umeboshi plums at two hundred yen per pack every Saturday. Bern didn't need to celebrate Christmas.

Cats were far, far less materialistic than people.

Ikuko was happy to be alone. Solitude was her greatest pleasure.

It was foolish placing the key to your own happiness in the hands of other people. It was foolish exchanging gifts.

Christmas really was foolish.

* * *

><p>"Hehe~ I haven't used one of these before."<p>

He wasn't a very communicative person at the best times- but when Ikuko confessed this, his eyes widened in real surprise.

His reaction was so cute to see Ikuko kind of wanted to pat his head, though she had to restrain herself. Years with only her lovely black cat for company had made Ikuko quite eccentric, and she frequently had to stop herself from treating him like a new pet.

"Are you serious?" Tohya exclaimed; voice filled with surprise. "How can you call yourself a real Japanese person if you've never even used a kotatsu before? That's, like the basic of the basics. If you're Japanese, you've got to have one of these; just like you've got to eat with chopsticks. It's the _rule_."

Tohya wasn't sure how he knew this. It was just one of the things that was lodged firmly inside his head. He couldn't really remember his family… but he did have vague memories of spending time with them. The memories of being sat under a kotatsu in winter, just like this one, were particularly vivid.

The faces of his family were shrouded in mist- but he could still recall the feelings being with them had inspired within him.

That couldn't have been a delusion.

His old man said he'd never used a kotatsu before he got married, because his dad (Tohya's grandfather… right?) hadn't been big on Japanese customs.

His mom had always liked to sit under the kotatsu and watch game shows, shouting the answers at the TV like a kid and laughing when she invariably got them wrong. Sometimes, Tohya thought she got them wrong on purpose, just so his dad would tease her.

They always had a weird relationship... probably.

Tohya… could remember that.

They were vague, dim memories- but he was sure, once upon a time, he had been a part of a family scene like that.

Ikuko smiled. "My, you looked so shocked. Is it really that strange that a Japanese person wouldn't use a kotatsu?"

"I guess so. I mean, I can't remember much of _anything_, but I remember using one of these. I think you're the odd one."

"Hehe~ How funny! I've never seen you get impassioned about something like this before, unless the topic of conversation was mystery novels… Rest assured, though, that I've had this kotatsu for a while. I just never had the cause to use it before."

"What did you do when it got cold, then?" asked Tohya, voice filled with childish curiosity. "I can't imagine you'd sit around in the cold until your toes froze off. You're too ladylike to catch hypothermia."

"You're quite right. When Winter rolled around, I'd just curl up in my bed with my cute cat."

"Then why break with tradition? Why'd you get the kotatsu out now?"

"Well, I don't know~ Maybe it was a whim?" Giggle, giggle. "Why do you think I got the kotatsu out this year of all years, Tohya?"

Was this… a puzzle? Or some kind of riddle?

Tohya frowned. Thoughts flitted through his mind as he surveyed Ikuko's smiling face.

"Let's see… The change this year would be, most noticeably… Ihihi… It might be kind of arrogant to suggest this- but the most obvious change would be that I'm here?"

"Exactly! I knew you'd figure it out, a smart kid like you!" Ikuko congratulated, clapping her hands.

"Hn? So, you really got the kotatsu out because of me?"

"Ahaha, don't make me admit to it out loud- it's so embarrassing to display my soft side~"

"A soft side…? Well…" Tohya put his fingers under his chin, pondering. "I guess, when you think of kotatsus, you typically get the image of a family sitting around it to keep their feet warm…"

"Eating tangerines, right?" Ikuko added, rolling one of the small oranges across the kotatsu to Tohya. "I did my research~ I'm sorry if it's not 100% accurate, though… I'm not very well-versed in these 'family' activities."

Tohya muttered a small 'thank you' for the orange; but he wasn't looking at it. He was looking at Ikuko.

She was still smiling… but there was something very soft in that smile… and just a little vulnerable.

Tohya didn't know how to breach the subject, and he thought asking directly would be a little rude, but… he had to know. He wanted to know more about Ikuko; and he wanted to feel even closer to this woman who had saved his life.

Or maybe he was just inquisitive by nature.

It was probably a combination of both.

Distractedly, Tohya began to pick the orange apart between his fingers- but he was still looking at Ikuko.

"Did you… um… I mean…" He flushed; looked away- fingernails piercing the skin of orange. Sweet nectar trickled down his fingertips; irritatingly sticky. "Ikuko… Were you… lonely… before you met me?"

There was a small silence.

Then… Ikuko laughed softly- and pressed her index finger against her lips.

"That's a seee~cret~ A lady would never share private information like that."

Tohya sighed. Of course it was. Everything about Ikuko was a secret. He still didn't know her real age. Save her servants and her cat, Tohya was probably the closest person to her; even closer than her family, and her friends (whom Tohya had deduced were non-existent, given she never left the house, nor received any phone calls or mail).

And yet, despite that, Tohya didn't know that much about her at all.

She was even more mysterious than the stories she wrote.

Tohya was ready to give up, accepting he would never truly know why Ikuko had chosen to take out the kotatsu- but her voice managed to capture his attention once more.

"But…" She smiled enigmatically. "I'll give you a hint about my past, if you want. I'd be no fun if I told you outright… but I'm feeling generous- it is the season of goodwill, after all- so I'll tell you this much. It's Christmas tomorrow, right?"

Tohya nodded. He knew. He'd been observing the cute, cat-themed calendar Ikuko had by her desk, and he'd noticed her striking off the days as they came.

It was the 24th now.

Christmas Eve.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a present," Tohya said, somewhat awkwardly. "I… can't really go outside… I mean, I still… Ahaha, I… don't really want to. I don't feel safe without you, so… I think trying to surprise you would be a waste of time."

"That's quite alright," said Ikuko smoothly. "After all, I didn't get you a present either."

"It's fine. I'm indebted to you enough already, given you saved my life and everything."

"Hm, that's not quite it, though. Even if we were childhood friends, I still wouldn't have bought you a gift."

"…How cruel. Though, I think that cruelty suits you." Tohya smiled teasingly; vague memories of similar conversations coming back to him. Didn't he know a girl he used to tease like this? She had blonde hair… His cousin, maybe…? "Yeah, I didn't think all that smushy sentimentality gift-giving stuff suited you. You like killing fictional characters way too much to celebrate something like Christmas."

"Oh my!" Ikuko laughed delightedly; one hand pressed over her mouth elegantly. This elegance was a little at odds with her strangely homely appearance; hair tied in a braid, reading glasses on her nose, legs under the warm kotatsu- but it still worked. Ikuko could have worn anything, and she would still have the same majestic appearance. "You have such a horrible opinion of me. No, I'm afraid that deduction is wrong, Tohya... A shame, as you're so intelligent- but you're not right."

"Oh?" Tohya raised a brow; rolling the peeled orange between his hands. "What's your hint about your past, then? With more clues, I'll try and reason out your real personality again."

"Right. Here's my 'clue', then…"

She began to spoke softly, with the air of one who was confessing. Tohya got the feeling Ikuko had never spoken openly like this to anybody before- apart from maybe her cat.

"I do… like Christmas. At least, I like what's buried at the heart of it. But I don't like any of the other things that have been thrown on top." Ikuko's smile looked almost bashful. "Ehehe…~ But, I'd be very, very happy… just being able to spend time with a friend. It would be a new experience for me… and I think that would be the best gift of all. There." Giggle, giggle. "I think you can make a rather decent assumption about my personality now."

Not for the first time, Tohya was momentarily stunned- but maybe he shouldn't have been.

Ikuko had acted rather aloof round him at first, but when she opened up to him, he had discovered… she was a really nice person. And, despite her seeming contempt for the rest of society… maybe she really had been lonely.

Hence the kotatsu.

Kotatsus were typically shared by close friends or families, after all.

Was this… another clue?

Was Ikuko saying (indirectly, of course- but she was always indirect when it came to personal details) she viewed him as a real friend?

Ahaha. Was she too shy to say it herself?

…Probably not.

She just liked teasing people, and testing them. 'If you can figure out what I mean without me saying it directly, you're worthy to be my friend.' Was that it?

Heh.

Tohya couldn't help but smile when he thought of that.

It was impossible not to.

Maybe the holiday spirit was getting to him.

"That's good, then. I think of you as a close friend, too… even if I did used to think you hit me with your car. Ahaha, sorry about that." Tohya smiled brightly; so brightly, it was impossible to imagine he was the same morose person he had been when Ikuko found him. "I think spending time with you on Christmas, and writing more mystery stories together, would really be the best gift of all."


	175. All I want for Christmas is

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #175: All I want for Christmas is…

* * *

><p>The all-white meta world was awash with noise.<p>

Mammon, Asmodeus and Leviathan were happily making noisy 'kyakyakya!' sounds as they opened up their presents; tearing into the colorful wrapping paper and shredding it into confetti with their long nails.

Belphegor was a getting a little teary-eyed and sentimental over a book Virgilia had given her; 'I-it's a very thoughtful gift, but I'm only furniture, do I really deserve something like this?' But Virgilia only smiled fondly, and tried to calm the poor stake down. Belphegor wasn't used to being treated with kindness, to the point where she was almost allergic to it.

Satan was shouting at the others to stop being so loud, damn it, she was getting a headache, and why the hell had they woken her up so early to celebrate a stupid human tradition that she didn't even care about?- but that was all an act to hide her flushed cheeks, and secret happiness she had been given presents at all.

Soon, it was Lucifer who had to try and calm Satan down, who was no longer able to keep up her pretence of wrath. Instead, Satan herself had stated sniffing, coming over all silly and sentimental over s-such stupid presents s-she didn't even want; s-she wasn't happy or anything, she wasn't…!

Lucifer patted her on the shoulder, grinning to herself over how stupid was except her.

Beelzebub, as always, had bypassed her gifts in favor of stalking Ronove; asking him over and over again what kind of food they'd be having, and clinging to him like a twin-drill'd limpet. This scene happened pretty much every day, regardless of whether it was Christmas or not, so it was nice to see Beelzebub was able to act 100% normally. Maybe that was because she was always true to herself and so had no side of her personality to hide, not even on Christmas… … or maybe it was because she was a shallow, single-minded girl.

You can decide.

And what of Beatrice, the happily married Golden Witch?

Of course, she was going to celebrate her first Christmas with her fun, shiny new toy; her husband (as of the 6th game), Ushiromiya Baaattler~

…Provided he actually got out of bed, first.

Stupid, lazy human.

"G-get off me, Beato… S-stop poking me… M'sleepy."

"Urgh! How can you be 'sleepy' on Christmas?" Beatrice shouted, pouting childishly, as she tried to tug the blankets away from Battler's huddled form. "Lazy! You're such a lazy pig! It's because you're getting Belphegor to do everything for you, isn't it?"

"H-how…" Yawn. "How could I be lazy with such a bossy wife? It's all _your _fault I'm so tired anyway."

"What do you mean? How is it my fault you're useless and incompetent?"

"How niiice, ihihi. I thought we were passed that, muu… You should've been nicer to me last niiight, ihihi…"

It was an unfair attack. Battler knew Beato always got flustered when he made perverted comments- even if she tried to hide it by acting more aloof than usual. Her face turned bright red almost instantly.

"T-that's not even it, i-it's-"

"And then, after aaaall that, you want me to get up at…" Yawn. "Five in the morning? How can one woman be so cruel and demanding, seriously? I've married a demon." Yaaawn.

Beatrice's face worked through several shades of red in a very short space of time- before, finally, she folded her arms and turned her nose up at Battler in a huff.

"I'm not a demon! I'm a witch; a beautiful witch! And I just want to spend Christmas with my husband. You're the mean one, spoiling everything!"

"Alright, now you sound like a little kid."

"You weren't saying that yesterday! Urgh! Battler, stop being so selfish, you're ruining EVERYTHING!"

But Battler didn't reply.

He had already fallen back to sleep.

H-how could he fall asleep when talking to the incredible Golden Witch? T-the nerve of some people…! It was despicable!

But, despite that…

Beato watched Battler sleeping for a while, a soft flush spread across her cheeks. Even though he pissed Beato off to no end, and really drove her _crazy_, he looked so sweet and innocent when he was asleep. His hair was all messy, in disorganized spikes, and his lips were parted slightly… a-ah, he kind of looked like some princess from a fairytale or something, who needed to be awoken with a kiss, kyakyakyaaa- _owch_.

Beato winced, rubbing her cheek.

Why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because she'd just pinched it.

She had to pull herself together.

Battler was trying to spoil her Christmas- and she wouldn't let him.

She _refused._

He'd soon discover what happened when he crossed the Golden Witch!

Gyahahahahaha!~

* * *

><p>"Happy Christmaaaaas, Baaaaattler! Kyahahahahahaha!"<p>

_**Thunk!**_

And so Battler's sleep met a rather painful and tragic end, via a brightly wrapped box straight to the face.

The nose, to be more precise.

His poor, poor, much abused nose.

At this painful collision Battler sat bolt upright, blankets falling off his dishevelled body, just like he was a character in a horror movie. The tip of his nose had turned red like his hair, and a look of blind panic was scrawled across his face, as he whipped his head around searching for the culprit who had murdered his cosy lie-in.

It was so funny Beato couldn't help but start cackling, in the most inelegant manner possible. That cackle didn't really suit her appearance, given she was attired in an elegant night dress, blonde curls loose round her shoulders- but Beato had never been an 'elegant' lady anyways.

She was still just an annoying witch.

A witch who threw boxes at people's faces when they were trying to sleep. And that was the worst kind of witch there was.

"Y-you…" Battler glared at Beato sourly; eyes narrowed, and filled with sleep. "Y-you _evil monster._"

"Kyahahahaha~ Yes, yes; I really am, aren't I?" Beatrice sniggered. "But _you're _the useleeeeess man who was trying to spoil my Christmas! I even got you a present. Why don't you open it, huuuuuuh? It's better than aaaanything the seven sisters got you! You'll forget about those stupid young girls in an instant when you lay your eyes on the amazing present IIII got you, kihihi~~"

Battler opened his mouth, ready to retort- but, at Beato's words… he closed it again.

He picked up the box that had fallen on the floor gingerly. It really was covered in wrapping paper. It wasn't wrapped particularly well. It was covered in sticky tape, so much so it got stuck to Battler's hand when he touched it. The white underside of the festive paper was still visible. Although the gift was a traditional box-shape the paper bulged all over it, as though it had an infestation of termites.

It looked kind of pathetic, actually, despite Beato's grand claims.

But it was still a gift.

"You really got me a present?"

"Of cooourse I did, stupid." Clamouring excitedly, Beato jumped onto the bed by Battler's side, and peered up into his face; cross-legged, eyes sparkling. "Open it open it open it open it open it!"

"Ihihi… W-well, if you went through alllll the trouble of getting me something, I have to." He pouted. "Even if you **did **throw it at my face." A little embarrassed, Battler turned the present over his hands; looking at it, rather than Beato. "Thanks."

"Muu… No problem. It really wasn't. Ha! Like III would work hard for you."

"Oh yeah, perish the thought. It's not like you're my wife or anything."

"S-shut up."

Battler stuck out his tongue in reply. Beato returned the favor.

When Battler began to tear the paper off his gift his actions were hesitant. He was half expecting his gift to be rigged with some bizarre trap, like Mysterious Poison Gas X or something. Then, he berated himself for being paranoid. A witch of Beato's calibre would never resort to a cheap trick like 'unidentified killing method X'; wasn't that restricted by Knox?

What would Dlanor say if she were here? Knox's fourth; no complicated scientific objects or undiscovered poisons can be USED? Was that it…?

There was no poison gas.

But, as Battler soon discovered… there was some kind of trick.

The moment he tore the top layer of paper off, there was another layer of paper underneath. When he tore _that _layer or paper off, there was still another underneath. When he tore _that _layer of paper off, there was yet _another _layer underneath- and so on and so forth, until Battler's fingers got all sticky from tape, and Beato began to giggle even more.

When Battler finally got the last layer of paper off, he was greeted…

…by an empty box.

…Of course.

This was such a childish trick. It was exactly the sort of harmless prank a witch like Beato, who enjoyed conjuring candies out of empty cups, would love. And she claimed she was 'dignified'. Yeah, right. Her favorite magic tricks and traps were the sort young children used. But Beato didn't seem to realize this. She was cackling, a proud smile on her face.

"Did you enjoy your present, Baaaattler? It's allllll you deserve! Gyahahaha!"

Battler looked from the empty box to Beato, box to Beato, box- until his eyes rested solely on the witch.

Maybe he should have been angry, or at the least, a little irritated… but he wasn't. His bad mood at being woken so early was gone, and instead, in its place… there was a warm, content feeling- that made his lips quirk up into a small smile.

He was… happy.

This stupid trick was exactly like Beato. If the present hadn't been a trick, he would have been even more surprised.

"Yeah… It's useless, it's all useless," Battler muttered- still grinning. "My cute witch… is sooo predictable~"

"E-eh? Battler, I-I- uwaah?"

But Beato never finished.

That was because Battler had pulled her into a tight hug.

Her face turned bright red. If she had been an anime character, steam would have poured from the top of her head.

"T-this is highly unorthodox, y-you stupid human! G-get off me! I-I am the Great Golden Witch, and I-"

"-care about my husband soooo much I spent four hours wrapping all those layers of paper round that empty box juuust for him, just to see the look on his face afterwards?"

There was a small silence; broken only by Battler's laughter.

"Eheh. You don't need to answer. Even without the red, I know I'm right."

Battler knew it was right. It was obvious, by the awkward way the box was wrapped, Beato wasn't very good at wrapping gifts. She wasn't very good at it at all. Maybe because she'd never had any experience with giving presents before- but, most likely, it was because she was kind of useless at practical things like that. Battler had this really adorable mental image of Beato cutting bits of wrapping paper up with scissors- then realizing she hadn't cut enough so it wouldn't go round the present; or getting her fingers stuck together with tape; or accidentally snipping her bed sheets when trying to cut up the paper; or sulking and having a temper tantrum because she reeeaally wanted to play a prank on Battler and it wasn't going right, i-it was taking waaay too long-

And Battler felt incredibly flattered.

That silly witch had really worked hard on that, hadn't she? It probably would have been easier if she just got him a real gift in the first place… but that wasn't like Beato.

She had to make her own life as difficult as possible just so she could tease others.

What an odd person.

But Battler loved her for it all the same.

"It's fine, really~ I didn't want a present anyway." Battler grinned; and then, in truly awful English (he'd never gotten the hang of it in school- it was a stupid language anyway, with too many weird plurals. If 'goose' became 'geese' why didn't 'moose' become 'meese'?), he said, "_All ah wahnt for Christmassu ees you~_"

Beatrice's face turned an ever brighter red.

And, about 0.18 seconds later-

"O-oww!"

-she hit Battler upside the head with her pipe.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Happy Christmas ^_^;;  
>I have a couple more Christmas oneshots, with a few other characters, so I'll probably post them at some point thruout the day, too.<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	176. Better left unopened

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #176: Better left unopened

* * *

><p>Like a butterfly hesitant over which flower to alight upon, Shannon hovered anxiously in the doorway of the servants' room. She wrung her hands together, and when she tired of that she rearranged her hat, and when she tired of that she began to tug the hem of her skirt straight with trembling fingers.<p>

What could she do?

What could she say…?

The words wouldn't come.

She was meant to be a big sister… … but she had no idea how to talk to Kanon at all. She wasn't very good with words, a-and she didn't like scold people- but she cared deeply for Jessica, and she cared for Kanon, too, so she _couldn't _let them be miserable.

She couldn't let them make each other miserable.

Her conscience wouldn't let her. But she wasn't brave enough to broach the subject, either.

W-why was everything so complicated? It wasn't like this between her and George… Well, maybe it had been at the start, but-

"What do you want, big sis? Have you come to berate me?"

Luckily, Shannon didn't need to start the conversation herself. Kanon had done it for her. But Shannon didn't feel very 'lucky' at that moment.

Kanon sounded so _tired_.

He _looked_ tired, too. He was seated all by himself in the servants' room; the other servants all being busy clearing away the food from the dinner table. Shannon should have been helping, too… but she couldn't leave Kanon. Kanon was frowning, his arms were folded, and his eyes were downcast. His head hung like a lead weight.

Why did he have to torture himself so much? Shannon couldn't understand. It was almost as if he didn't want to be happy.

How… could she talk to him… …?

How could she make him understand?

"U-um, i-it's not that I'm angry with you or anything," Shannon muttered, still fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "I'm just… rather… I'm _worried_ about you."

"Worried?"

"Mm, that's right. I'm worried about you, a-and Milady as well!"

Kanon paused, missing a beat. It was only with forced nonchalance he was able to say, coolly, "What about Milady…?" But Shannon could detect his bluff.

There was a slight tremor in his voice.

His fingertips were shaking.

He was upset. Horribly upset.

Just like Jessica.

Shannon had to make them feel better; she **had** to.

"Kanon." Shannon clasped her hands at her front; staring at her little brother imploringly. Her voice was no longer nervous. Instead, it was firm- filled with the unwavering resolve of one who could fight a witch head-on without flinching. Despite her shyness, Shannon always had been stubborn. "Kanon, why didn't you accept Milady's Christmas present?"

Kanon's face worked through a variety of different expressions. Shannon knew her brother well, but she couldn't even begin to guess at what half of them meant. Maybe Kanon wasn't too sure, either. Finally, however, his expression settled, and became blank once more.

"The real question is, big sister, why did you _accept _Milady's present?"

Shannon's face flushed slightly. "I-it was a very nice dress, and I was happy Milady bought it for me. It would have been cruel to refuse. I-I just did the decent thing any person should do."

"Exactly. But you're _not _a person, big sis. You're _furniture_."

"N-no… I-I don't want to be…"

"But you _are_. Running away from that fact won't change it. Furniture can't accept gifts from humans! You're lying to Milady! You're trying to convince her you can reciprocate her friendship- but that's impossible for somebody like you! I was trying to _protect _Milady by refusing her present. If you really care for her, you should have done the same!"

"H-how… H-how can you say something so cruel… …?"

Shannon gave a small, pathetic moan of pain. Recoiling, she pressed a hand to one flushed cheek, as though she had been struck with a sudden case of toothache. Her eyes beaded with tears.

W-why… did Kanon want to hurt everybody so much?

S-so what if she wasn't human? So what?

Why couldn't she pretend she _was_… at least for one day?

Pretending… had been so much fun.

She always had the most fun when she was pretending.

"_Here you go, Shannon! I hope you like your present!" said Jessica, beaming happily, as she shoved the brightly wrapped box in Shannon's arms._

_Shannon had been holding a feather duster at the time, and had been busy doing her early-morning sweep of the windowsills in the corridor outside Jessica's room- but the moment that large box was pressed against her, she dropped the duster clumsily, and held it to her chest. Her whole face bloomed red._

_Jessica, too was blushing; looking a little shy, as she linked her hands behind her back._

"_I know Christmas isn't really popular in Japan, and it's like… for lovers, and stuff. But gramps is pretty big on Western holidays, and, um, I think it's common to give presents to friends in Western countries, not just to loved ones… n-not that you aren't a loved one; I, um, really like spending with you, wahaha! But, ehehe… It's just 'cause we're friends, okay? Don't think about it any deeper."_

"_Okay…" Shannon's voice was soft, but heavy with emotion. A small, tentative smile spread across her face. "I've never gotten a Christmas present from a friend before, s-so I never thought to get you one in return… I-I'm sorry…"_

"_Naah, don't sweat it. S'no big deal. We'll just have to have a girly sleepover and talk about hot guys or something later to make up for it, riiight? Wahahaha!"_

"_U-um, yes, maybe… T-thank you! Thank you very much!"_

_With trembling fingers, Shannon tried to open her present delicately. She didn't even want to tear the paper. She treated her gift with more reverence than she treated the small ceramics and antique furniture Natsuhi made her clean every day. Aalthough it might have been improper… to Shannon, this present was more precious to her than anything in the Ushiromiya mansion she had to tidy._

_This was a present from a friend._

_She… had a friend._

_D-didn't that make her a human?_

_So, if she was human… she was allowed to be happy._

_It wasn't a bad thing being happy, was it?_

_The gift was a dress; white, rather simple, with a modest slit up the side- but it was absolutely beautiful. Shannon was so grateful, and so stunned, and felt so unworthy, that she completely forgot how to speak._

_Jessica laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head with one hand. "Ehehe~ I saw it out shopping, and it was so frickin' cute- I wanted it so bad! But cute clothes don't suit tomboyish girls like me, they only look good on girly girls like you…"_

"_U-um, that's not true. Milady is very pretty too, u-um-"_

"_N-no I'm not."_

"_I-I think you are…"_

"_I-it doesn't matter, it's fine! I think you'd look better in it." Jessica grinned; then gave Shannon a salute. "So make sure you wear it on a date with George! I'm counting on you to get a boyfriend in my place! I bet he'll be so amazed his heart'll go _dokkyun _and explode, kyahahaha!"_

"_N-no, um, I-I don't want that! I-I don't want his heart to explode! T-that sounds really painful!"_

"_Hahaha~"_

Shannon's face flushed. Tightly, she held this happy memory to her chest. It didn't matter what Kanon said; he couldn't tear this fragment of hope from her heart. He might have given up on being a human… but she never would.

She _wouldn't_.

After all, she was sure that the sea was blue.

Again, another memory surfaced to Shannon's mind; one from a month ago.

"_What are you doing, Milady?" asked Shannon primly, peering over Jessica's shoulder. She had been cleaning Jessica's bedroom, but that task was finished now- and she was far more preoccupied watching Jessica._

_It looked like she was… repeatedly pricking her finger with a sewing needle?_

_Shannon didn't really understand._

_With watery eyes, Jessica turned to Shannon- and, bitterly, she wailed, "Uwaaaah! Shaaannon! I'm trying to sew somebody a present, and it just won't go riiiiight! Argh, I'm so useless at this girly stuff- useless, useless, useleeeeess!"_

_And with that, Jessica began to tug at her loose blonde curls in irritation, grinding her teeth together in irritation._

_Her actions were a little over-the-top, but Shannon couldn't laugh at her. It was obvious that Jessica was being serious. She was pouring 101% of her heart into this present._

_So Shannon would help her._

"…_I'm going to die alone," Jessica sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I'm a failure as a woman and nobody will ever marry me. I can't do _anything_."_

"_Sssh, now. That's not true. You're good at a lot of things," said Shannon soothingly. "Even if you can't sew, that doesn't make you any less of a woman. Ehehe…" Smiling with a hidden wickedness that only surfaced around Jessica, she said mischievously, "Genji can sew, but that doesn't make _him _a woman, does it?"_

"_Ehehe… he… I-I guess not…"_

"_Then it's fine. As long as you put heart into it, I'm sure this person will appreciate the present. And if you want, I can help you."_

"_W-would you really?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Uwaah, Shannon… Shannon… T-thanks a bunch!"_

"_D-don't cry!"_

"_I-I can't help it!"_

"_H-here, dry your eyes- n-no, don't use my washcloth, i-it-"_

"_Ha, haa… achoo!"_

"_-i-it has dust all over it… …"_

Jessica had slaved over that present for weeks; working her fingers to the bone. Every day after she came home from school she would sit at her desk and begin to sew; eyes narrowed in concentration, teeth gritted together. Maybe it would have been hopeless taskon her own- but with Shannon's gentle help and words of guidance, Jessica's gift had (eventually) taken shape.

It was a pair of gloves.

Though Jessica was rather coy and surprisingly shy about it, Shannon knew who that gift was for. It could only be for Kanon. During the winter months Kanon had to twist the heads off the dying roses outside and pepper the grounds of the mansion with salt to clear up any patches of ice. Although he never complained, Kanon's fingers were getting rubbed red raw from the cold.

Jessica's present wasn't only practical, but it was also thoughtful.

She had been watching Kanon from a distance, worrying about him, in her own little way… and she was doing all she could to ensure he was happy.

His happiness was her happiness.

That was the nature of Jessica's innocent crush- which had developed into a real, pure kind of love.

But… Kanon hadn't accepted that love.

And, when Jessica nervously handed her gift to him… he had thrown it back in her face.

Kanon refused to believe he was a human. He refused Jessica's happiness. And so he made Jessica cry.

"Don't you know…?" Shannon muttered softly; blue eyes melancholy. "Don't you know how much you've hurt her? Don't you know… how hard she worked on that gift? I watched her. I saw how hard she tried. A-and you… you must have known, too. But you…"

"Did the kindest thing I could."

"H-huh? I-I don't understand…"

Kanon got to his feet quietly and fixed Shannon with an icy cold look. His face… was a blank mask. Empty and emotionless.

"Of course I care for Milady. I… I really do."

"T-then why…?"

"Because I _don't _want to hurt her. I could never accept her feelings… knowing how it would end. I couldn't betray her like that. Jessica is… beautiful. She shines so brightly. She needs another human to fall in love with her, who can return that love. I can't. So… I can't lie to her." He turned his head; folded his arms. "_Especially _not on a sentimental holiday like together."

"That's… it, then? You're just… going to let Milady cry…?"

"It's the best. I won't be swayed." A sigh. "I'm just as stubborn as you, big sister."

When Kanon walked away, Shannon was left by herself; all alone in the servants' room. Kanon hadn't wanted her company any longer, so she might as well have not existed. Nobody would be able to see her, curled up in the corner of the room like that.

Nobody would be able to hear her.

Her lost, lonely voice wouldn't reach anybody's ears.

But, even so… she had to say it, all the same.

"Milady… Jessica… … I'm sorry… If I could, I'd force Kanon to accept the gift… But I can't force him to do anything…" She sniffed; wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Maybe… he was right all along, after all…"


	177. Cornelia in the cold

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #177: Cornelia in the cold

* * *

><p>Cornelia shivered as she pulled her warm, woollen scarf tighter round her neck. With her hands bundled up in cute matching mittens, body wrapped up in a brown coat, and yellow earmuffs placed on her head where her two matching ribbons usually went, she was the very picture of warmth on a winter morning.<p>

The clothes weren't just for warmth, though. They were also for protection.

She was a notorious klutz- and her clumsiness was only increased tenfold when it was icy outside. If she fell over, the extra layers would act as a buffer between her body and the floor, so she didn't get bruised. Plus, she didn't want to get her Eiserne Jungfrau uniform soaked through. This wouldn't be a repeat of last year. Cornelia _refused _to catch a cold. She _refused_. She was so determined and hot-blooded she'd melt all the snow and cold germs with her resolve, kyaaaa!

…Or something like that, anyway.

Snow swirled round Cornelia in white, fast melting flakes; some catching on her coat, others in her hair, others resting on the tip of her nose or her cheeks or her eyelashes. When these teeny-tiny flakes melted they ran trails of water across her exposed skin and made her shiver.

…Even with the coat, she was probably going to fall over, bump her head and catch a cold anyway. That was just how it was. Cornelia was incredibly unlucky.

Maybe there was no point even trying to fight fate.

Maybe there was no point in trying to wrap up warm.

Maybe there was no point in-

"K-kyaah?"

-trying to keep her footing.

It was impossible to say what the young third class priest had tripped over _this _time- but the correct answer was, most likely, her own feet. There was nothing else on the street she _could _have tripped on- unless she'd stumbled over an awkwardly-placed paving slab or something.

In Cornelia's defence, the sidewalk was pretty slippery.

She fell forwards awkwardly, body going limp just like a ragdoll. She had been half-expecting this- so she didn't try to fight it. In seconds, she'd face-plant into the snow, and probably break her nose or something. Just to add insult to injury, she'd also get pneumonia- but she'd still drag herself to work anyway, isolate herself inside her office so she didn't spread germs to anybody, and try her best even though her head hurt and she wanted to collapse. That was the kind of girl Cornelia was. She never gave up, even at the expense of her own wellbeing.

Some people might have called it noble.

Others would have said it was stupid.

Cornelia closed her eyes, waiting.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

A whole minute.

Nothing happened.

She never hit the floor.

For once in her life, disaster had actually been averted. But by what?

Slowly, tremulously, her eyelids- lashes glittering with powder snow- fluttered open.

Somebody had caught her in their arms before she hit the floor… and that somebody was now holding her tightly against their chest, j-just like a prince would hold a princess…

H-haau… …

Nobody ever helped Cornelia. Cornelia always tried to overcome obstacles by herself- mainly because she was stubborn, but also, maybe… because she was shy. She'd always been bad with talking to people, so she wasn't used to being treated kindly. That was why her face turned light pink, and her heart fluttered slightly. S-she didn't really deserve to be helped, but… s-she was incredibly thankful, anyway.

Cornelia blinked up at the face of her rescuer…

"Fufufu~ You should watch where you're going, Cor~ne~liaaaa~"

…and instantly, her blood ran cold.

Cornelia knew that voice.

She knew that face.

But, most of all, she knew that bizarre, bright red outfit.

It was _Gaap_, the portal demon. She was unmistakable, what with her definitive curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and teasing smirk. Cornelia had only seen her a couple of times before, but she knew Gaap by her reputation. She was the widely renowned trickster who stole things from the Courts of Heaven offices, regardless of the protective enchantments placed upon then. She was a demon not even Dlanor could intimidate.

She was also Cornelia's own personal poltergeist, who liked stealing the batteries from her alarm clock, and her clothes, and her favorite books… and once, she had even buried her shoes in the back garden.

W-what on earth was Gaap doing here?

Cornelia pushed Gaap away hurriedly and scrambled to her feet; trying, desperately, to get rid of the heavy blush that tainted her cheeks. T-that demon had probably caught her just so she could drop her own the floor, or steal her belongings, o-or _something_; Gaap definitely wasn't innocent! She must have had some ulterior motive. She was a demon. And it was Cornelia's job to defeat demons, no matter what the cost!

"Please allow me to speak," said Cornelia, holding her arm before her in the typical Eiserne Jungfrau pose. She tried to keep her voice steady and emotionless just like Gertrude's, but she couldn't help but let a small tremor of fear creep into her words. "I-if you don't get out of my sight right now, I will be forced to take offensive action, u-under statue 22 (18) of the Demon Regulation Act, 1486, p-passed by the 7th Great Court of-"

But Cornelia didn't get to finish; mainly because Gaap had started to yawn.

"Oh, geez, you don't _seriously _have to recite that every time you want permission to hunt witches and demons, do you? Are you trying to _bore _me to death, Cornelia? Lia?" A small pause. "No, that won't do, _Lia _is Lia. What can I call you? Cornelia, Cornelia… Ooh, I know! What about 'Nellie'?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about! Perhaps, if you stated your business, I wouldn't be so inclined to destroy you!"

Gaap raised a brow. "Destroy me? You and what army?"

"W-well, I-I, um…"

"Hehe~ You're such a cute girl- but you're waaay too rash. How could you talk of destroying your fellow man on _Christmas_? That's just terrible."

Against her better judgement, Cornelia found herself being dragged into conversation by her own curiosity.

"Let it be known that we in the Great Courts of Heaven don't celebrate human holidays. Neither do you."

"Well, I decided on a whim that I wanted to!"

Two pink spots burnt on Cornelia's cheeks.

The casual, almost friendly way Gaap was talking with her was incredibly aggravating. Shouldn't she have been just a_ little_ bit scared? Cornelia might have been only a lowly third class priest, but hunting demons was still her job. If she finished declaring the full title of the 1486 statue she would have permission to use her full powers of reasoning (which, admittedly, weren't very polished) to deny Gaap's existence. Why wasn't Gaap scared? Was it because Gaap knew she wasn't strong enough to break one of her fingernails- let alone erase her from existence?

That… was probably the truth. But Cornelia didn't want to admit it.

She didn't want to admit she was useless.

"Look here, Quornelia."

"Quorn…?"

"Yeah, it's soft and squishy, like you~"

"I-I'm _not_ squishy!"

Ignoring her blithely, a bright smile on her face, Gaap ploughed on. "I wanted to get into the Christmas spirit a little, you know! "I always play pranks on people, but that gets a little ooold- so I thought, why don't I, just for one day, became a super-awesome big sister guardian angel instead? So I chose the most useless person I could think of who might need a little help getting about their day-to-day life… and I chose you! Yaaaay!~"

Cornelia's face turned red. "I-I'm not useless! Let it be known that I'm not!"

"Sure, sure. You tell yourself that. But…" Gaap grinned. "You would've fallen head-first on the floor if it wasn't for me, riiight?"

Cornelia bit her lower lip; making a small noise of irritation. She couldn't dispute this. It was true.

"Ngh… …"

Gaap giggled, patting her on the head. "That's the spirit, Quornelia~ So, even if it's just for one day…" She winked. "I'm going to watch out for you, okay? Nothing bad will happen! It's a promise! Gyahaha!~"

And with a loud, inelegant laugh, the demon attired in bright red vanished into the snow.

Cornelia was left standing there, hands clasped to her chest, looking around with wide eyes. S-she hated relying on demons; no, scratch that, she hated relying on _anybody _other than herself…

But she couldn't deny that she was thankful.

Just a little.

N-not that she'd say it out loud.

Pouting, she kicked a snow drift angrily- and nearly overbalanced once more.

It was a good thing Gaap was there to catch her.


	178. Kyun! Cute witch girl!

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #178: Kyun! Cute witch girl!

* * *

><p>Bernkastel kicked her bare feet back and forth slowly, no real rhyme or reason to her movements. Sometimes she bumped her feet together- milky white ankles colliding together with light <em>thunk<em>s. Her tail twitched slightly.

She was lying on her nice, warm bed on her tummy, a book in her hands.

Everything was nice and peaceful, and Bern was content.

Reading was one of the few pleasures in her dull life. Tearing out the innards of carefully constructed mystery stories never stopped being fun. She had read this book many times already, but it always held her interest. The cold-blooded resolve, intelligence and arrogance of Justice Wargrave resonated in a heart of a cruel witch like her.

Yes, even humans could achieve the same level of cruelty as witches- even if they didn't live nearly as long. It was incredible, really.

Bern, in her state of contented happiness, looked just like a cat curled up by the fire. If anybody had patted her head at that moment whilst her guard was down, she might have let slip a small purr, or even a cute 'niipaah~'

It was a shame, then, that Lambdadelta- the person who wanted to hear those cute sounds the most- was incapable of sneaking up on Bern. She didn't have a subtle bone in her body…

"Beeeeern! Haaaaaaappy Halloween, oh ho ho ho!~ Give me a treat or I'll trick you!"

…as was demonstrated by her over-the-top introduction.

To further add to this ridiculous greeting, multi-colored explosions began to bloom to life around Lambda. These explosions- bright pink, lime green, bright yellow- spread coils of sickly-sweet smelling smoke round Bern's bedroom, making the blue-haired witch cough.

Bernkastel _glowered_.

"Next time you do that, give me a warning."

"What?" asked Lambda innocently, "so you can cover your mouth and nose?"

"No. So I can tear you apart before you even try."

"Ooh, touchy, touchy~"

"Be quiet."

Lambda smiled devilishly and threw herself down on the bed beside Bern; giggling as she bounced a little when she landed.

"No, I won't be quiet. It doesn't suit me! Hey, Bern. Bern. Beeeeern," Lambda continued- now shaking Bern's shoulder, "don't start reading again! Haven't you noticed something unusual?"

"…No. You always act this ridiculous. I have tired of it."

"K-kyaa! How mean! Y-you're just being tsuntsun, aren't you, Bern? You don't mean that reeeaaally, do you?"

"I mean what I say." Tail flicking in irritation, Bern looked up at Lambda- and, using heartlessly bright red text, said, "**You, Lambdadelta, are completely ridiculous.**"

"B-bern!"

"…**And you're incredibly irritating.**"

"H-hngh, t-that's so mean! I love you so much, Bern- how can you say something like that? I was working on that _incredible_ and _electrifying _introduction for ages, and you just ignored it! You ignored _me_! Don't ignore me!"

Bernkastel didn't reply. Instead, she just blinked at Lambdadelta, eyes frosty. In Bern's eyes, Lambda was like an annoying little chick; a baby chick jumping up and down, cooing 'pay attention to me! Pay attention to me!'

If Lambda was an annoying bird that kept chirruping in her ear, then Bern was a cat. And she wouldn't suffer such foolish behavior.

Her claws had been unsheathed before… but now she was going to use it. Her most effective, cruel, and devastating weapon- even worse than her pitch black scythe, her army of cat familiars or her red truth.

Yes, she was really going to it!

She was going… … to give Lambdadelta the silent treatment!

Lambda scowled. "Aw, come on, Beeern. You must have noticed _something _a little strange about my intro, right? And what about the outfit? What about the hat?"

Bern didn't reply- but she did look Lambda up and down.

Lambda wasn't wearing her usual outfit of eye-melting pink. She was wearing a cute little red dress with matching spider web-print stockings, red shoes adorned with bat wings, and the pumpkin- which was usually stitched to the front of her dress- was hanging round her neck on a chain. To top the whole outfit off, she was wearing a pointy witch's hat perched proudly on her head.

"Do you like the hat? _I _like the hat. Get this, Bern- you'll like it, too. You'll think it's clever, fufufu~ You get it, because I'm a witch, so I'm wearing a witch's hat, based on the human perception of witches even though no real witch would wear something like this?" Lambda cleared her throat- and, in a whisper, as though she was sharing a great secret, she said, "It's _ironic_."

Bernkastel rolled her eyes.

"Aww, don't be all silent and moody, Bern! You haven't asked me the most important question! You haven't asked me what I'm doing!"

More silence.

Lambda sighed and rapped Bern over the head with her knuckles. "Silly Bern, haven't you forgotten? It's Christmas! You should be all 'oh my gosh, why are you talking about Halloween?' Why don't you get confused?"

More silence. Then, slowly, Bern said, begrudgingly, "…I thought you just got confused. **With your intelligence, it wouldn't surprise me**."

"O-ow! Enough with the red already!"

"I'm just getting into the festive spirit."

"No, you're being mean! And I'm _not _**that **stupid, actually! I knooow it's Christmas! I just don't feel like celebrating it!"

"Is that because Beato and I teased you about Santa?" Bern's lips curled into a small, barely there smirk. She'd tried to ignore Lambda- but that was almost impossible. Bern couldn't resist the chance to make fun of her. It was almost as much fun as lying to stupid, greedy humans who wanted Bern to resolve their problems with miracles and then throwing them into the darkest reaches of oblivion. "Even **I **got presents from Santa as a child. You must have been a terrible little brat if you only ever received gifts from your father."

"S-shut up, Bern! That's not it, that's not it at aaaaall! I'm not jealous of you or anything! I-I-I never even wanted any presents from Santa, anyway! I certainly didn't! Tsun! I just hate Christmas in general! Green and red isn't a good color scheme for me! I think red and black and orange- the colors of_Halloween__**-**_ are far, far nicer! Plus, you get _candy _on Halloween, but on Christmas everybody expects you to eat vegetables, and that awful pudding with _raisins _in that isn't even _sweet_. Bleurgh. It's a stuuuupid holiday. I like Halloween much, much more!"

Bernkastel sighed. Well, she didn't- she didn't waste emotions on silly people like Lambdadelta- but she definitely gave the blonde witch an exasperated look.

"If you're so desperate to boycott Halloween, why don't you get together with your huge fan club and start a protest? For some unfathomable reason, you have lots of friends. I'm sure you could do it if you tried."

"Oooh… Oh yeah! Good idea! I could do that…"

"Yes, and maybe then you would leave me alone."

There was a small pause. Lambda tapped one finger against her lower lip, deep in thought. Her stupid witch's hat sagged on her head; threatening to slide off at any moment.

Really, thought Bern with a _tch_, Lambda was so irritating. Why was she here at all? Bern didn't want to spend time with her. She really didn't. Not when-

"I'm with you because I like being with you, silly~ I like your company more than anybody else's! Chuuu~"

"H-hn…?"

Slowly, Bernkastel pressed her fingers against her cheek. Why… was it burning?

Had Lambda… just kissed her…?

Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Bern said, "…Was that a Christmas present?"

"Don't be silly, Bern, I hate Christmas~ If you give people Christmas presents, there's no guarantee you'll get anything in return! Then, you'll just end up saaaad and heart-broken and aaaalone! I like how it's done on Halloween much, much more. Give me a treat…" Lambda grinned menacingly. "Or I'll trick you so bad I'll make you regret ever being borrn~ Oh ho ho ho!"

Yep~

It might have been selfish, but Lambda didn't like giving people gifts if there was no insurance she would get one back. This way, Bern would _have _to kiss her, or Lambda would peel all her skin off in a bath of kompeito candy~ Didn't that sound fair?~ Halloween was the perfect time for a shy girl to give out treats, because she always got repaid for it.

Lambda had always thought Halloween was much better than Christmas.

But she knew that was a _certain_ fact when Bern returned her kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **And that's the end of all the Christmas-themed oneshots. I did have some ideas for a couple more, featuring other characters, but I didn't want to upload too many fics based on the same theme in one go :/ Maybe I could save those ideas next year? XD If there is a next year? XDD Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed these ones.  
>I still have some other theme stories to post before the year is finished though, ehehe XD<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	179. X second rule

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #179: X second rule

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><p>Beelzebub watched it happen almost in slow motion. One second, she held the sugar cookie pinched between her fingers, her teeth getting steadily closer as she readied herself to take a sweet, blissful bite in-<p>

And the next second her cookie was falling through the air, twisting and turning as the cruel force that was gravity pulled it down, down, down, _dowwnnn-_

_Splat._

Beelzebub stared at her fallen cookie with horror evident on her face. It looked a little like she'd just discovered her best friends all hated her and she had a terminal illness and her house had burnt down. And there was a world shortage of sugar. And she had learnt this all in under two seconds.

Then- her red eyes blazing with determination, her lips drawn into a thin line- Beelzebub leant forwards-

Snatched her cookie up from the floor-

And declared to the heavens (if the heavens were so inclined to listen)- "THREE SECOND RULE!~ It's still good if it's only been on the floor for three seconds!"

Following that incredibly dramatic announcement, Beelzebub gobbled up her sugar-and-dirt-encrusted cookie and smiled.

It was another victory for her!~

* * *

><p>Beelzebub had been seated in the kitchen in relative calm, slowly and methodically devouring a piece of strawberry cheesecake. Finally, it came to the grand finale of the delicious desert- the single plump, red strawberry left on top. It was covered with a few flecks of cake that marred its redness, but its shape was perfect, and it looked so tasty… Obviously, it was the best past; Beelzebub had saved it for last.<p>

The stake of gluttony pressed the prongs of her fork into the strawberry, waiting for the satisfying _squish _noise to indicate she'd pierced its flesh-

But none came.

Instead- very, very slowly- Beelzebub could only watch, her eyes widening, as the strawberry somehow seemed to deflect her perfectly-primed blow. Her fork scraped with a _skkrrttt _against the plate like nails down a chalkboard whilst, propelled forwards, the strawberry rolled off the plate-

And fell onto the floor.

Beelzebub stared at it, her eyes pooling with tears, as she tried to calculate how long it'd been on the ground. Was it more than three seconds? Was it okay to eat? But it was the best part of the cake- and it was getting less and less tasty the longer it sat on the ground collecting dirt and germs and-

N-no, stop! That was simply too upsetting to contemplate!

Beelzebub had to do something, and she had to do something fast.

"FIVE SECOND RULE!" Beelzebub shouted to heavens once more (not that the heavens cared much; those who resided there were generally busy stamping and signing things to listen to a silly girl like Beelzebub)- before, moving at the speed of lightening, she darted forwards-

And snatched the strawberry up with her fingers-

And popped it into her mouth.

_Mmm._

Floor germs had never been so tasty.

* * *

><p>Beelzebub was seated with a mug of hot cocoa at the very same table she'd eaten her sugar cookies and her strawberry cake the two consecutive days prior. Perhaps, if she'd cared to give it more thought, she could have concluded that something like this would happen…<p>

But she didn't.

And it did happen.

And the heavens just didn't care.

Mammon managed to bump into Beelzebub just as the blonde stake's fingers brushed her cup of warm, sweet, heavenly hot cocoa- and, well… The results were fairly obvious.

The contents of her cup was sent flying to the ground like a graceful brown waterfall- and splattered all across the floor.

"Uh, um, uhh…" Beelzebub stared at the mess with wide eyes. It looked a little like she'd been punched in the stomach- and she swore she was beginning to hyperventilate. T-this wasn't the same as sugar cookies or strawberries; you couldn't just pick up a liquid… D-damnit, that was so inconvenient! But she was wasting time! It was going to get cold!

S-she needed to scrape all the hot chocolate off the floor and back into her cup! Would that be difficult? But in the face of food, no challenge was too great for Beelzebub, gourmet chef! She could do it! She could! She _**would! **_She **had to. **The fate of the world rested upon her shoulders!

"Um, um… TEN MINUTE RULE!" Beelzebub shouted to the uncaring, apathetic heavens- before jumping down from her chair and trying to collect the spilt hot chocolate in her cup.

Mammon could only watch, completely nonplussed.

Ten minutes…?

"I'll give you points for trying, Beelze… But doesn't that render the three second rule completely useless?"


	180. Bernkastel on love

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #180: Bernkastel on love

* * *

><p>Of all the humans that existed on the Rokkenjima game board, he was easily the stupidest. That child may have called Battler incompetent in an earlier game, but Battler was a virtual <em>genius <em>(small bombs and all) when compared to his blustering, blundering uncle.

Battler was a redhead, so maybe it was only natural he was rash and impulsive; and even though Bernkastel _hated_ him, she knew he wasn't a complete _idiot._

But Ushiromiya Krauss' hair was blond, and didn't they always say blonds were idiots? Lambda and Beato were proof of that- and Krauss only served to continue the tradition that blond hair = idiocy.

He was, quite easily, one of the stupidest humans Bernkastel had ever observed.

Failed business ventures? No head for money? _Moon _tourism?

It was all so ridiculous Bernkastel could have laughed. She didn't, though. She wouldn't waste her laughter on a cretin like that.

It would be too easy.

Krauss was such an ineffectual waste of a man Bernkastel, despite her lack of empathy and her cold, closed room of a heart, even felt herself feeling a faint shred of sympathy for Natsuhi. No wonder Natsuhi suffered from so many headaches, being married to a man like Krauss. Bernkastel didn't blame Natsuhi for being so devastated when she was first forced into an arranged marriage with him, either. Horror would be the standard response when marrying that man.

Bernkastel even- wonder of wonders- felt her tail twitch in irritation when she saw scenes scattered throughout the game boards of Krauss belittling his wife. He frequently treated her like a hysterical woman, even though he knew (he **should **have known) that Natsuhi was far more intelligent than he was.

Without Natsuhi to reign him back, Krauss' dire monetary situation would be even worse than it already were (if such a thing were even possible). Natsuhi had more common sense in the fingernail of her little finger than Krauss had in his whole head.

Krauss should have known this. He was her **husband**, after all. Bernkastel had cut out all ugly and unnecessary emotions from her heart (at least, she had tried), but even a heartless wreck of a 'human' like her could appreciate just how much Natsuhi did for her husband.

But Krauss didn't.

Why did he treat her like a hysterical child? Why did he refuse to support her? Why did he make her cry?

It wasn't enough to make Bernkastel angry. She didn't worry herself over the relationships between humans. They were all pieces on a game board to a powerful witch like her. Would she worry about the feelings of chess pieces as they bumped together in their box? Of course not.

Rotten, ugly, unhealthy relationships were even more fun to watch than happy ones. When two lovers fell apart, it was quality entertainment; the kind Bernkastel would watch whilst chewing on popcorn. Tears streaming down flushed cheeks as true love was torn asunder was the most beautiful music Bernkastel could ever hope to draw out of a human throat- second only, perhaps, to the sound of their pathetic dying screams.

But their relationship did _intrigue _the Witch of Miracles.

It had caught her interest.

Krauss was an utter failure, an idiot, a fool, and he was a liar, ever-so-slightly sexist and, on occasions, a childish bully to boot. There was nothing likable about him at all. So, why did Natsuhi stand by his side? Why did she forgive all those flaws so easily?

In so many game boards, and across so many _kakera_, Krauss' uncaring words had brought tears to Natsuhi's eyes. He made her miserable. Natsuhi supported her husband through his bungled business ventures, but Krauss never even lifted a finger to defend his wife against Eva's cruel words come the family conferences.

How was such a broken, unbalanced, imperfect relationship able to succeed? Surely, they must have been unhappy together. If any other woman had been in Natsuhi's position, they might have snapped.

Bernkastel knew only too well Natsuhi wasn't the real culprit in Lambdadelta's game- but it made sense for her to snap and kill her husband. It was more surprising that she _hadn't._

But… they weren't unhappy together.

For some inexplicable reason, they _weren't_.

They made each other miserable, yes, but that misery never lasted.

No matter how much Krauss upset Natsuhi, she would always forgive him. He would always apologize. They would hug. Sometimes, Krauss would kiss his wife on the cheek, or wipe away her tears; tell he was so sorry for being such a useless husband, but he loved her so much, and it was so _embarrassing _when she asked about their mounting debts because, as her husband, wasn't it his job to protect her?

He didn't want her to be upset. He certainly didn't want to make her cry.

He just couldn't control his temper sometimes- and he was sorry, he really was. Please don't cry.

And, the longer Bernkastel pried into this strange relationship, pulling out scene after scene of arguments and tears, tender kisses and small smiles, the more she began to see…

Her dull purple eyes, the same consistency as muddy water, began to clear.

They loved each other.

Natsuhi loved Krauss.

Krauss, if possible, adored her even more.

_Without love, it cannot be seen._

Maybe, despite it all… there really was something noble, and chivalrous, and kind, and incredibly loyal and lovable, all buried deep down inside Krauss' character; hidden by an ugly exterior Bernkastel had only ever looked at coldly before.

Bernkastel frowned, pursed her lips; took a sip of her bitter tea.

Natsuhi's smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Krauss was laughing boisterously, just like a young kid, as he swung her round in his arms; proudly exclaiming, between laughter, 'Look, Nats, I _told_ you I could still pick you up! I'm not that old **yet**; I did do boxing for a long time, you know!'

They… looked so happy- even if it was only fleeting.

Why were they happy? It was ridiculous. They tore at each other's throats on other occasions; shouting, screaming- and weren't they still in debt? Their future was still precarious. But it didn't really matter, anyway.

These scenes Bernkastel had dredged from the sea of _kakera_ all ended the same way, anyway.

_The witch will revive, and none will be left alive._

Krauss and Natsuhi would die.

This happy laughter was even more fragile than the soft heart beat of a baby bird, left out in the cold.

So… why was Bernkastel thinking about this so much?

Why… … was she trembling?

And, above all… … why did her eyes sting so much?

Surely she wasn't going to _cry_.

It wasn't like she was jealous or anything.

She wasn't.

Krauss was an idiot, after all- and she didn't have any love in her heart. She couldn't see the best part of his character; and it wasn't like she cared, anyway.

She didn't want, or need, to share laughter like that with somebody; or be hugged tightly to their chest; or looked at with so much love it almost hurt- and she certainly didn't need somebody to dry her tears, or hold her hand, or stay with her at night to stop her having nightmares.

She didn't.

After all… she wasn't a human.

And she was just fine by herself.


	181. Pigtails

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #181: Pigtails

* * *

><p>Lucifer knew- as she had known from the day she was created- that it was her job, being the eldest of the seven sisters, to act professional at all times. She couldn't afford to behave childishly. She had to set an example to the rest of her stupid sisters. It was a difficult task, and sometimes the responsibility weighted down on her with such pressure she felt a little like an aluminium can being crushed underfoot. Even so, Lucifer did her best.<p>

Her pride would not allow her to do anything other than her best.

Lucifer tailored her outward appearance perfectly to reflect sophistication; long black hair and straight across bangs that made her eyes look sharper, more mature.

That was Lucifer.

However, even Lucifer wanted to look cute sometimes. Although she didn't want to admit it- it was embarrassing, so childish the mere thought made her face turn light pink- she was… a little envious of her other sisters.

Maybe.

She was especially jealous of Asmodeus. Asmodeus was the youngest sister, and everybody babied her. She didn't have to set an example. Asmodeus could look as cute and young and childish as she wanted to, wearing her twin tails with pride even though they made her look about twelve years old, and nobody batted an eyelid.

Instead, they all patted her on the head, and said she was adorable.

If Lucifer wore her hair like that, everybody would tease her. She knew they would.

It wasn't really fair. Lucifer wasn't all that good at being the oldest sister anyway. She… always made mistakes. Her other sisters were all so critical, so judgmental, and they'd all pick at her each and every little fault and flaw, until Lucifer began to feel ill and exposed.

Belphegor would have been more suitable in Lucifer's role. She was a hard-working perfectionist; easily the most mature of all the sisters.

Lucifer hated it sometimes.

She hated being the oldest.

So maybe that was why, one day, she tried to change her appearance; even if it was just for a few moments.

She stood at her bedroom mirror, hair ties she'd stolen from Asmodeus round her wrist, as she carefully- painstakingly- swept up all those loose strands of straight black hair… and pulled them into the same girlish pigtails Asmodeus always affected.

Two twin tails.

Maybe they were a little messy, and maybe one was higher than the other, and maybe they weren't the exact same size (Belphegor would have had a heart attack), but…

For the first time in quite a while Lucifer smiled.

That hairstyle didn't really suit her; not like it complemented Asmodeus. Lucifer wasn't really young enough to pull it off. But… … maybe it made her look… just a little cuter?

Maybe?

But her pride wouldn't let her keep her hair like that for too long.

And yet, even so… If only for a few seconds, she felt as though she'd become more like the 'real' her; the anxious girl under so much pressure to act a certain way, who really wasn't all that good and everything, a-and maybe people should stop expecting so much of her because she'd only disappoint them, and maybe her sisters should stop picking on her because how would **they **like being the oldest, huh?

But thinking like that wouldn't change anything. She _was _the oldest- so she had to act, and look, like it.

With a small sigh, Lucifer's fingers found her twin tails-

And she pulled the hair ties out.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **There is a poll on my profile related to this story, I would be happy for some feedback ^_^;;  
>To Fan Of Games; I am working on your request, and that should be up in like 2 days. And if you're writing a fic with Ange and Asmodeus, that sounds adorable, and I would love to read to it when it's done ^_^<p>

Oh, and... I have a really strong urge to write some weird crack pairings atm. I wouldn't mind if people sent in requests for those, either- the odder the better XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	182. Helping the hopeless

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #182: Helping the hopeless

* * *

><p>There was something incredibly sad about him. He was so pitiful even a witch like her, known by many as being fickle and cruel, couldn't help but sympathize with him.<p>

Countless tears would stream down his cheeks, but they weren't able to smooth the rough creases in his face. Old age had marked him, stripped away the handsome features he had once possessed.

He certainly didn't look handsome anymore.

Lambdadelta sometimes picked at the exposed skin of her thighs with interest; tracking her fingernails down the expanse of peachy skin visible between the top of her stripy socks and the bottom of her pink dress.

Unlike his, her skin was smooth and soft. It would never be tarnished with age.

She had lived far longer than Ushiromiya Kinzo. She had lived far longer than any human. It didn't show on her face.

As long as people believed in 'certainty', she would never die.

Lambdadelta always thought that wasn't very fair.

Growing old must have been a horrible thing. Lambdadelta's sojourn in that awful, awful logic error had hardened her heart against most petty phobias- but, in truth, she was still terrified of getting old.

Maybe all witches and demons were.

They never aged. Whilst old age was something humans had to take in their stride- trying to smile, and maybe cracking light, rather unfunny jokes about back pains and bad eyesight- it was entirely alien to all inhabitants of Purgatorio.

And the unknown was so terrifying Lambdadelta didn't even want to think about it.

How horrible must it be, to have a youthful mind caged in an old body? What would it feel like, to have your own flesh crumble around you, whilst your mind was still active and young- but trapped, and sealed, and locked away?

Maybe it would feel a little like being ensnared in a logic error. Impossible to escape.

Hopeless.

Lambdadelta would rather die than get any older; she really would. If she awoke to find grey hairs in her pretty head of blonde hair, or ropy veins running across her delicate hands, she didn't know what she'd do.

She'd probably run crying to Bern, and pull her into a tight hug.

Humans were incredibly brave. Lambdadelta had always thought so. They were born only to die eighty or ninety years later. Death was an inescapable fact. So what was the point in even trying?

But humans did try.

That made them incredible. They were so incredible not even Lambdadelta, a witch with fearsome, incomprehensible powers, could compare to them.

That was why Lambdadelta liked watching humans; sometimes with a bucket of popcorn balanced on her bony knees, and a silly smile on her face. She especially revered the humans who were determined and driven; the ones who tried their hardest even when the odds about them were stacked so high only a miracle could make their wishes come true.

That was where witches came in, though, wasn't it?

Lambdadelta liked granting wishes to deserving humans. She had to reward them for being so persistent.

She couldn't have been a human. It looked far too difficult- and way, waaaay too depressing. Lambda was quite happy as she was, thank you very much. Her body was built from sugar and spice just like that funny human poem. Real candyfloss was stuffed in her arms and legs, and it made her taste light and fluffy~ She melted on the tongue.

Trading that lightness and freedom for flesh and bone and blood sounded a little like willingly locking herself in a cage. She couldn't do it.

But humans didn't have a choice.

That was why Lambdadelta felt sorry for them- and why she was determined to make their horribly short lives (they were just like moths or flies compared to her) a little more bearable.

Lambda liked making people happy. People who deserved it, anyways. She was one witch who could identify with humans' struggles the most, given she had been trapped inside that logic error for so long. But she hadn't given up.

Lambda rewarded humans who had the same attitude she had.

_Don't give up._

But, sometimes… there were some humans Lambdadelta couldn't help.

Humans like him.

Ushiromiya Kinzo had kept himself alive through a sheer determination to apologize to his Beatrice- but this Beatrice wasn't a witch. She was the little girl who had called him 'father'. His child, Bice's child; not Beato reincarnate, but she did look strikingly like her mother, with her golden hair and blue eyes.

Bice's child (Kinzo's child) had loved her father.

But Kinzo hadn't seen it that way.

They did say without love it could not be seen… but Kinzo's love was not that of a father's- and his 'love' made him see something that did not exist.

And he made a terrible, terrible mistake.

He was still paying for that mistake twenty years later.

Kinzo didn't want to apologize to a witch.

He wanted to apologize to a human.

But that was impossible.

It was impossible because that human was dead.

After that, Kinzo swamped himself with black magic studies- and maybe he even went a little insane. Human minds were horribly frail, just like their bodies. Beatrice the Second had died after she fell off a cliff. That had been enough to tip Kinzo over the edge, too.

Lambda sighed, picking idly at a small wound of her knee- pulling out a small, fluffy lump of cotton candy innards, and chewing on it thoughtfully.

Humans really weren't very durable, were they?

That… was kind of sad.

It was so sad she could have laughed.

Kinzo filled his study with that acrid, brain-rotting smell that was too sweet even for Lambdadelta. That was saying something, given she could quite happily sip cups of tea with fifteen sugars piled inside. Kinzo's study was filled with bizarre, evil-looking artefacts: ceremonial stakes with deadly ends; old Latin books with pages brown with age by the likes of Thomas Aquinas; a strange collection of human skulls that sat in size order like Russian dolls on his desk…

He tried, again and again, to the point where he nearly collapsed with exhaustion, to bring her back to him.

Beatrice.

He just wanted to see her smiling at him one more time- that was all he wanted. Was it really too much to ask?

Well… humans, regardless of how determined they are, can't bring the dead back to life. It's impossible. They could try- and if Kinzo really wanted, he could try to dig his beloved child back up… but the results would be rather macabre, and nothing like the happy reunion he wished for.

Kinzo must have known his wishes were impossible- but still, he tried, as if hoping to achieve a miracle.

Maybe he was waiting for a kindly witch to hear his words.

And, wouldn't you know… a certain witch did.

Lady Lambdadelta hugged her knees to her chest as she observed that awful magician wiping back tears; so pitiful, so pitiful, aren't you meant to be a grown man? Pull yourself together.

Lambdadelta wanted to help. She wanted to reward that resolve, that determination. She liked people like that, who never gave up. But… even if she could drag that dead child back up from the ground and breathe life back into her, Lambdadelta didn't know if she could make Beatrice forgive him.

She couldn't control people's minds, though she could toy with their fragile bodies as much as she liked. It was the one limitation all witches had to abide by. That was why Beatrice was suffering so much, trying to force Battler to remember something he had completely forgotten.

What Kinzo had done… might have been too terrible for forgive.

This was his punishment.

He had to crawl through hell for the rest of his life- and when he died, he would surely be consumed by rising flames and burning agony for committing such a grave sin against that cute, wide-eyed, trusting little child who called him _father_.

Lambdadelta knew Kinzo would find no redemption; not in the human world.

Humans wouldn't forgive him.

But… if his sin was too terrible to be forgiven, then it was impossible to atone for. So there was no point worrying about it. It was in the past. Lambdadelta acted in a rather childish manner, but she could be surprisingly mature when it came to dealing with emotions- and Lambdadelta was a very soft-hearted girl. She literally had a heart made out of sweet, squishy cotton candy.

Even if there existed no living person who could forgive Kinzo… Lambdadelta would have.

She_ would._

Kinzo couldn't bring Beatrice back. The Beato under Lambdadelta's tuition wasn't the Beatrice Kinzo wanted.

The only thing Lambdadelta could offer him was her pity, and her sympathies, and her forgiveness.

_Hey, old man_, she would have said (because she had it all worked out in her head). _I don't know about that stubborn kid… but I'd certainly forgive you. Because I'm nice like that. I know those words won't mean all that much from me. It's not my smile you want to see. It's not me you love. And, I may not be anything like that stubborn little kid… but I have blonde hair too, you know? And, unlike the story of the 'Golden Witch' you've spread, with this sad kind of self-derision ('cause you know __**now **__Bice was only a human; of course she couldn't be revived, not even by love- pffft, this isn't a shoujo manga, get real, aren't you an adult?), I'm a real witch._

_And the words of witches mean a lot, you know._

_I… hate seeing humans so sad._

_So I'd forgive you._

But Lambdadelta's words couldn't reach him. She couldn't comfort any of the Ushiromiya Kinzos that existed, unhappily, in any of the _kakera_ that drifted through the black dimensions of possible worlds.

After all… Lambdadelta had arrived at this party a little too late, hadn't she? If Beato's game had commenced a year earlier, maybe Lambdadelta could have met with the real Kinzo; had a cup of tea in his weird study, and winced at how sweet the air was, and spoken to him kindly like an old friend. Maybe they could have laughed together (Lambda was very good at talking to people- all kinds of people; the old and the young and the mature and the childish, because she was naturally a bubbly, likable girl), and Bern could have gotten jealous, and Lambda could have grinned and patted her cute kitty on the head.

"Don't worry, Bern~" Lambda would say. "I still love you most. Although… Oh ho ho…! Kinzo was pretty handsome about fifty years ago, huh? Hahahahaha!~"

But Lambdadelta wasn't crazy. She didn't have conversations with corpses.

And there were some 'people' who were beyond saving.

It had already been said in red, after all.

**Ushiromiya Kinzo is already dead.**

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Lambda/Kinzo crack (ish) with a side helping of jealous Bern (ish) for Magu-chan :3 I hope I handled this odd pairing nicely enough, even though it's not particularly pairingy. But given Lambda's love for helping those who are determined, I think she'd sympathize with a guy like Kinzo, who tried so hard to revive Beatrice. I actually have another idea with these two characters that is more light-hearted, but I haven't written it yet XDD**  
><strong>To Fan of Games: your request should be uploaded tomorrow ^_^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo  
><strong>


	183. The New Year's party, part 1

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #183: The New Year's party, part 1

* * *

><p>"A-are you sure this is alright? Don't you think I look kind of… u-um…"<p>

"What? You look kind of _what_?" asked Mammon, planting her hands on her hips.

"U-um, well… I-I don't want to be rude, and I'm very glad you decided to help me, given… u-um, given you don't. Very often. B-but, but-"

But Belphegor never got a chance to finish.

Smirking, the Stake of Greed said, "Whaaaat? You're not going to decline my help **now**, are you, Belphie? I **slaved **over choosing unique and pretty dresses for my more hapless, fashion-unconscious sisters, and now you're saying you don't want to wear it to the party! I'm huuuuurt! Aaaah, and if you don't wear that dress it'd be such a waaaaste! It totally matches your eyes!"

"I-I don't want to hurt your feelings, but, um… Wait a minute." Belphegor frowned. "We _all _have red eyes."

"Pffft, details, details," said Mammon, waving one hand in a dismissive motion. "We can't all wear the same outfit; we'd look stupid!"

"We wear the same outfit usually. I-I would have worn my Stake uniform quite happily!"

Mammon pouted. "So you dooooon't want my heeeeeelp?"

She was speaking in a manner eerily reminiscent to Beatrice. Belphegor, who was an obedient girl, couldn't help but flinch and bow her head when Mammon used commanding tones like that. Even though Mammon was younger than her, she was always able to take control of situations…

Belphegor's whole body began to tremble, and her heartbeat trembled in her chest.

_I don't want to let anyone down… …_

Blushing heavily, Belphegor muttered, "I-I already said, I'm glad for your help, but I don't want to be a burden… Y-you didn't need to go through so much trouble… I-I don't need a pretty dress, my old uniform is perfectly fine and- o-ow… atatata…"

Once more, Belphegor was cut off. This was probably a good thing, given she had started to stutter and stammer so badly it was almost impossible to understand her.

Mammon had just bumped Belphegor over the head with her fist.

"Silly, silly Belphie."

"H-huh? I'm silly…?"

"Yeup."

Mammon smiled- but it wasn't a mean, teasing smile, as per usual. She didn't look like a hungry wolf who wanted to ravage an innocent. Instead, she looked… almost kind.

Mammon was already dressed in her gown for the party. Belphegor (and all the other sisters, come to think of it) had expected Mammon to wear something really bizarre; low cut with a short skirt, so she could shamelessly steal all the attention at the party for herself. However, Mammon- contrary to everybody's expectations- had opted to wear something very tasteful. It was a simple black dress that fell in elegant waves to her feet. Her brown hair was coiled elegantly in a bun on her head, and she'd plucked a rose from the front garden of Ange's home and placed it in her hair. She looked a lot like Beatrice, actually- only with brown hair, and a slightly less intricate dress.

Was this softly smiling, radiant girl really the childish, attention-seeking Mammon? It must have been- but it was almost impossible trying to believe something like that!

Mammon… really had changed a lot after she became Ange's friend.

She wasn't so self-centred anymore; and she seemed to truly enjoy making others happy- even if she couldn't resist teasing them as she did so.

Belphegor was beginning to feel a little guilty for thinking badly of Mammon from before. Mammon might have been young, and a little immature, but she really was a good girl. She'd even offered to help choose Belphegor's dress who was too much of a perfectionist and far too critical of her own appearance to ever be happy with something she had picked herself.

The dress Mammon had chosen really was lovely, too. It was a light powder blue, and rather low cut- but not so much Belphegor felt overly self-conscious in it. It was downright demure compared to the strange outfit Belphegor had to wear as her uniform (though she swallowed her embarrassment in that swim suit/business shirt attire because wearing it was mandatory, and it reflected her status as a proud Stake of Purgatory). Belphegor's side tail had been tied up with a matching light blue ribbon.

It was nice… b-but, even so, Belphegor couldn't help but feel her stomach fill with butterflies.

She couldn't forget why she was wearing that dress.

Okonogi was throwing a very fancy New Year's party in his mansion, and- of course- he had invited Ange. He hadn't seen Ange in a while, given she had moved from the city to a smaller, more peaceful town by the seaside. Okonogi, despite his slightly callous mannerisms, must have missed Ange. He didn't have a family or any children, so Ange was the closest thing to a daughter he had. He must have missed her.

There was another reason why Okonogi had invited Ange, though; a slightly less sentimental one. This was all about business. She was the sole reason Okonogi was so rich and his multiple businesses so affluent, given she had left nearly all of her money in his possession. Okonogi was incredibly indebted to the young girl, so he was obliged to invite her, as a matter of saying thank you- and the party was also a chance for him to discuss matters of her gold further.

Belphegor wasn't entirely sure which reason was the correct one. It was kinder to think that Okonogi had merely missed Ange- but she wasn't that naïve. Most likely, Okonogi had invited her because of a mixture of both reasons.

Either way, it didn't matter. Ange was going to the party, and that was that.

And, of course, wherever Ange went her faithful furniture followed.

The Seven of Sisters of Purgatory were going to a fancy New Year's Eve party held by a famous millionaire.

They really were going up in the world.

The other sisters had all been incredibly excited- even if they tried to hide it. Beelzebub had babbled about what delicious food would be there; Satan was trying her hardest to curb her temper and act like a young lady; Asmodeus wanted to find a cute boy and fall in love; Leviathan had been practising various traditional ballroom dances with Ronove (much to his amusement) and was convinced she'd show all her sisters up by being the most elegant and beautiful; Lucifer had been looking forward to intelligent conversation with mature adults (she was sick of babysitting her sisters, she said- but she loved them really). Mammon was just happy to spend more time with Ange.

Belphegor wasn't so excited, though.

To put it bluntly… she was terrified.

She wasn't very good at talking to people; especially not large groups of them. When she was with her sisters, or she was being ordered by one of her masters, she was able to retain her composure enough to act in a calm and collected manner- but she was sure her sisters would run off and leave her immediately. She'd be all alone.

All alone… surrounded by lots of strangers…

Lots of intelligent, incredibly _rich _strangers, who would all be judging her…

S-she didn't want to go.

She _couldn't _go.

Belphegor had suggested to Ange several times that she could just stay at their house and watch out for burglars, but Ange would have none of it. She said, very firmly, that parties were a 'family occasion', and it wouldn't be as much fun if she wasn't there.

It was the word 'family' that won Belphegor over.

S-she… s-she belonged to a family…

Ange… cared about her that much.

And if she didn't go, Ange and her sisters would all be disappointed.

Belphegor could hardly imagine she was that important to everybody. She was just furniture, after all. But… if Ange said she cared, then… Belphegor would have liked to believe her. Ange didn't tell lies.

Belphegor didn't want to upset anybody- so she had to go.

Even if the thought of the looming party made her feel sick.

S-she had to admit, she did feel a little better after Mammon had picked out her dress, and done her hair, and carefully dabbed make-up on her face… b-but her appearance didn't matter all that much if she started stuttering and making a fool out of herself in front of everyone!

S-she couldn't do it… S-she'd trip over in her new shoes, or say something stupid, and then she'd embarrass Ange, and, and, and-

"Belphie. Calm down. You're hyperventilating."

Belphegor made a small 'meep' noise and blinked up at Mammon in surprise, eyelashes all a-flutter. She hadn't noticed she'd been lost in thought until Mammon, ever so gently, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Belphe. Everything will be fine. You're the most mature sister out of all of us, so I'm sure they'll like you. You'll be right at home with all those rich and smart people. I mean, you actually _read books_." Mammon giggled. "I bet Asmo and Beelze will just be running around shouting like a pair of kids, so you'll _definitely _make a good impression compared to those two."

"I-I… U-um… Y-you think so?" asked Belphegor hopelessly. "I-I don't know…"

"Well, _I _know. You'll find a really handsome guy to dance with in about five seconds, guaranteed."

"I-I-I can't dance…!"

"But you're really good at fighting. Isn't it kind of the same thing? You just have to know where to put your feet… oh, and not trip over in your shoes. It's easy. You'll pick it up." Another smile. "Come on. Turn that frown upside down."

Belphegor looked down at her lap, cheeks light pink. Hesitantly, she muttered, "U-um… I-I'll… I'll try…"

"That's the spirit. Now, come on!"

"E-eh? W-we're… going now…?"

"Well, yeah. I think I heard Amakusa at the door."

Belphegor's stomach twisted itself into knots.

Her skin was pale and pasty. She kept trembling. She felt like she was going to be sick.

_No, _she told herself sharply. _Get your act together._

_You can't be **sick**._

_That really wouldn't go down very well._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Started Fan of Games' request, also decided to make it double as the New Years' special XD~ It's only like 2 days late XD  
>I know the prompt asked for AsmoAnge but Belpeghor ended up getting a pretty big part too... like, the biggest part ._. But I still included all the stuff about Asmo.  
>This is part 1 of 6. I will upload the rest shortly.<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	184. The New Year's party, part 2

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #184: The New Year's party, part 2

* * *

><p>Belphegor rested her head against the window of the car. She was watching; staring outside blankly, as the light blue strip of the ocean vanished from her field of view. She couldn't even see Ange's neat, pretty little house anymore. It had all been swallowed up by trees.<p>

The road wasn't a main road, so it was a little bumpy, riddled here and there with potholes that made the car bounce and shake quite badly.

Amakusa should have gone slower, really. Ange kept sighing, and tapping her feet on the floor, and folding and refolding her arms, and every once in a while she'd tell Amakusa to stop driving so fast because that wasn't going to impress _anyone _and Okonogi's mansion wasn't going _anywhere_, and _anyway_, what if his recklessness screwed up the nice car Okonogi had loaned him, which must have been more expensive than owing your own small, private island?

Of course, Amakusa, being Amakusa, would reply flippantly with lines like, "Don't worry, little lady, I'm _perfect_. I won't make any mistakes", and then he would laugh.

The laughter soon stopped when Ange delivered a sharp pinch to his backside, however.

Fortunately, for both the inhabitants of the car and Amakusa's rear, the unsafe country road would open out in the large motorway. Following that would, as surely as the yellow brick road led to Oz, take everybody to the city. And, just a little beyond the city, was the large mansion Okonogi owned.

The whole journey would take approximately three hours.

Three hours might not have sounded like all that much- but for Belphegor, it was three hours of being cramped up inside a rather small space, surrounded by the noise and chatter of her over-excited sisters; not to mention all the cars that would be thundering around everywhere, all around her… …

Belphegor's stomach filled up uncomfortably with a mass of twitching butterflies. She felt like she'd just eaten a three course meal- and now she was going to vomit.

She didn't like being in cars very much. It wasn't that she got motion sickness, or any other 'normal' ailment that sometimes struck people in cars. Rather, Belphegor hated being confined in small spaces for too long; especially with a large group of other people. It wasn't so bad if she was with Ange and her sisters, and she knew Amakusa well enough not to be overly bothered by him (even if he did say some odd things). However, if Belphegor had been in that car with a group of strangers, she probably would have had a panic attack.

She was feeling a little nervy even now, but at least it was manageable.

For the most part.

Thankfully, her sisters knew of Belphegor's problem, and were kind enough to let her sit right by the window. That way, if the stress became too much for her, she could wind the window down and get some fresh air.

Or she could be sick without ruining the upholstery of the car- as Amakusa had so charmingly put it.

He soon stopped teasing Belphegor when Ange pinched his behind, though.

"Honestly. I don't know why I keep getting stuck with _you _as my chauffer," said Ange bitterly, glaring at Amakusa.

Amakusa only laughed. It was a mark of how proficient a driver he was that he'd been able to bicker childishly with Ange, occasionally ruffling her head or prodding her in the side, throughout the duration of the car journey, and not once had his control of the car been impacted.

Satan would occasionally snap at Amakusa to take greater care and _keep your eyes on the road, you stupid human!_, but Amakusa laughed at her, too- in a 'devil may care', rebellious kind of way that made Satan blush.

It wasn't as if Satan would be too badly injured if Amakusa did crash the car, anyway. She could transform herself into a stake at the blink of an eye, and escape by smashing one of the windows. Belphegor began to suspect Satan was only snapping at Amakusa so he would talk to her.

Satan was a little funny like that. She acted so tough but, in reality, she was only mean because she was too shy to confess her real feelings to people, or say what she was really meant.

"Don't sound so dejected, Milady. We've been together through thick and thin. I thought we were best friends. You should be jumping with joy at a chance to see me again," said Amakusa.

"Ha, ha. Some chance. Keep dreaming."

"It's okay, Juu~uuza!~" Asmodeus said cheerily. She was so excited she was all but bouncing up and down in her seat. "I still love you!"

"Why, _thank you, fair maiden_~" Amakusa replied, in surprisingly good English.

Well… Maybe Amakusa's linguistic skills weren't all that surprising after all. He _had_ spent a good portion of his life under the employ of rather shady people in Europe. He was fluent in English and French, and had a slight smattering of German, as well.

Belphegor was fluent in most European languages, too, but it had taken her a good deal of time to learn it all. There were so many awkward, fiddly rules in English it was a little complicated, even for a smart girl like her. Sometimes, she had to wonder whether Amakusa really was as stupid and simple-minded as he pretended to be…

However, when Belphegor had- very, very shyly- asked Amakusa about his linguistic skills, he had smirked and answered easily that he's only bothered learning all that stuff so he could flirt with girls.

"Japanese girls love a guy who can speak French, you know, _ma __chérie__," _he'd said, patting Belphegor on the head.

Belphegor had felt quite nervy by the whole ordeal, and had avoided Amakusa astutely for quite some time afterwards.

"Eeeee! Amakusa is so coool~" Asmodeus cooed- evidently proving Amakusa true that some girls, at least, were very impressed by those who could speak foreign languages.

Then again, Asmodeus was easily enraptured. He could have said anything in English, like 'where is the nearest grocers'? I want to buy a squash', and the result would have been the same. Belphegor doubted Asmodeus even understood what Amakusa had said to begin with.

"Aah, you all look so beautiful in your pretty dresses. I like your normal uniforms a lot too, but I think these ball gowns are… a little classier? The old outfits are a little too cosplay for my mature tastes, hihihihi~"

Lucifer glowered. "O-our normal outfits are not cosplay! They're very fitting for the pride and the honor of furniture who serve Milady! Urgh… i-if you weren't Milady's friend-"

"Trust me, he's not," said Ange flatly.

Lucifer continued, "Fine then. If you weren't Milady's acquaintance-"

"And occasionally her bodyguard slash chauffer," Amakusa put in.

"-t-then I'd stake you right in the forehead, you fool!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, big sister," said Amakusa smoothly. He didn't even have the grace to look a little perturbed by Lucifer's threats- which, of course, wounded her pride quite horribly. "I'm just saying, there's this café in this small town called Hinamizawa called Angel Mort… Hey, you know it, Twin Drills?"

Beelzebub's face had lit up- as it always did when food was being discussed.

"Yeah, I know it!" she said enthusiastically. "I wanna go there so, soooo badly! The food looks delicious! I bought a really cute authentic menu from that restaurant a while ago!"

"Where on earth would you buy a weird thing like that?" muttered Satan, but Beelzebub ignored her.

"Aaah, I love that menu so much, I could cuddle up with it at night and sing it lullabies! Kyakyakya- the puddings they do all sound so niiice and lovely and delicious, I just want to defile them with my tongue forever and ever! Uwaaaaaah! That would be heaven!"

"Hihihi, the food is pretty good. I'll bring you some back next time I go."

"H-ha? Really?"

"Really, really."

"Thank you, Amakusa, I love yoooou!"

"I love you too, Twin Drills. Ahaha, the food's not even the best bit. The waitresses there are so sexy- and their outfits are incredible! Your usual uniforms kind of remind me of those outfits. Just a little." Amakusa smiled a debonair smile; shrugging his shoulders, as if in apology. "Just saying. Don't take it personally."

That smile could have melted any heart- except for Lucifer's. She was seething. It was obvious she, at least, was taking it very, very personally indeed.

"M-my outfit does **not **look like some cheap cosplay maid thing! Take it back!"

"Aah, well, if you're so adamant about it I guess I'll have to… But I wasn't trying to insult you, Luci. I think your usual outfit suits you- it's just not my cup of tea, you know. But those ball gowns really are something else. You look exceptionally lovely, Lucifer. Red is definitely your color, hihihi~"

"W-well, I, um… u-uuo…"

Lucifer's self-righteous anger all but faded away. Her face bloomed red as her cocktail dress, and she looked down at her lap in embarrassment.

Quietly, she mumbled- still unwilling to give up so easily- "Humph… But my old outfit isn't cosplay… …"

Amazingly enough, silence filled the car for a few moments. It was rare for there to be moments of respite like this when all seven sisters were together- but Belphegor supposed today was a rather important occasion. The sisters (with the exception of Belphe) were all so excited for the party they could hardly speak- whilst Ange was trying to get some sleep (she'd been up all night jotting down ideas for a new story), and Amakusa was (wonder of wonders) focusing on the road.

The silence didn't last very long, though.

"Ha… I bet you girls are excited, right?" said Amakusa. "Being demons an' all, do you have any large parties down in hell, or wherever it is you're from…?"

"Not particularly," said Lucifer- who had now recovered from her earlier stint of embarrassment. "Time doesn't run in a linear manner in Purgatorio, so it is very difficult setting dates for holidays. We do celebrate certain human customs from time to time, though."

"Heh, that's a shame. Is this the first time you've gotten dressed up to go to a party, then?"

"Yes, it is," said Leviathan, in tones even more regal and polite than Lucifer's. Not content to let the oldest sister speak all the time, Levia had decided to butt in. "I'm so excited… I've been practicing the waltz, and I think I'm quite good at it! I'm sure boys will want to dance with me, ufufufu~"

"I'm sure they will. If you want, I'll give you spin round the dance floor a few times? I'm kind of rusty, but I know I'll pick it up- 'specially if a cute girl like you tutors me, hihihi~"

If Leviathan had been an anime character, steam would have risen from the top of her head.

"K-kyaaah! A-amkusa… …!"

"Will you dance with me too?" asked Asmodeus imploringly, clasping her hands at her chest. "Will you, will you?"

"Heheh, sure thing~ I wouldn't want to disappoint such an adorable girl."

"Oooh… yaaay!~"

Amakusa laughed. "Aah, it's kind of weird, offering to dance with a demon. I'd hardly have believed in you guys myself, if Ange hadn't shown me. I thought she was crazy at first, with all that 'without love it cannot be seen' stuff… hihihi… Now, I just think it's pretty cool, though."

"It's not 'cool'; don't speak so disrespectfully of our lineage," said Satan curtly. "Though… thank you for the compliment."

"No~oo problem. So. Are you going to tell the other party guests you're demons?"

"Probably not," said Leviathan. She pouted. "They wouldn't believe us, anyway… and if they don't believe in us, it would be impossible for us to use magic to back up our claims."

"It's only thanks to Ange that we're able to make our forms visible at all," Mammon piped up- who had been unusually quiet for some time. "If we used magic as well it would put too much strain on Ange."

Amakusa grinned. "Aww, that's a pity. It might go down well. Some of the businessmen Okonogi knows are pretty shady… Now I think about it, they might be real demons, too! You'd have so much in common! Hihihi- o-owww!"

But Amakusa didn't get to finish.

That was because Ange had pinched his behind again.

"Aaaw, come on, Milady! Why do you keep doing that all of a sudden?"

Face blank, voice impassive, Ange said, "…It runs in the family."

The stakes- even Belphegor, despite her nervy tummy- all shared secretive smiles at Amakusa's obvious confusion.


	185. The New Year's party, part 3

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #185: The New Year's party, part 3

* * *

><p>It was difficult to describe Okonogi's mansion. Belphegor was a very well-read girl with a <em>very<em> vast vocabulary, that spanned at least seven different languages.

(That was what happened when you'd been alive about one thousand years, though. You got bored- and then you started researching stuff. Well… strictly speaking, that wasn't true for all the sisters. Beelzebub got bored and then ate food, but the point still stood).

Even so, despite Belphegor's incredible command of the Japanese language, and a few others besides, she still didn't know what to say about Okonogi's mansion. It was simply too incredible for human words.

In the end, Asmodeus' soft, excited 'wow' might have summed it up the best.

The natural splendor of Okonogi's 'humble' abode, combined with the preparations that been made for the New Year's party, made Belphegor feel like she had stepped straight into something from a fairytale.

Under the arbor, a string quarter could be heard playing soothing music; classics Belphegor most likely would have recognized were she not so nervous. There were fairy lights strung up in the trees around Okonogi's large garden (more like personal forest), which- rather than being tacky- sparkled beautifully under the night sky, as though stars had become caught in the tree branches. Numerous people flitted about Okonogi's garden, and the sound of pleasant conversation floating over the music from the strings. The guests were just as beautiful as their surroundings; elegant women in dresses that would have rivalled those of the most important witches, and men in business suits with slicked back hair and champagne glasses in hand.

And, most incredibly of all-

"Wow! Look at all that foooood! Kyaaaaaah, I'm in heaven! I'm in heaven! I could die! I'm so happy I could just die right now! Kyakyakya!"

…Well.

The food was clearly the most impressive sight to Beelzebub, at least.

There were several large tables draped in white tablecloths, set up outside under a marquee. They were piled high with bottles of champagne, plates of delicate cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, expensive-looking liquer chocolates, and… was that caviar…?

Wow. Okonogi really _was _rich, then.

If the large house and garden hadn't given it away, that had.

Belphegor felt herself going weak at the knees. T-there were so many people, and all of them looked so much older than her, and so much more _accomplished_, too! She was like the Jane Eyre of this party, wasn't she? She was the plain girl who didn't belong in this world of fine parties and _caviar_ (it was actually caviar!). She should have been at Ange's home, or her own, doing some needlework or _something _to calm her nerves.

O-oh, but there a flaw in that comparison, wasn't there?

Jane _did _become rich after all, didn't she? And Jane wasn't a bad conversationalist. She certainly wasn't _shy_. She just had better things to do than watch rich, posh, pretty, rather vapid people flirt with each other.

N-not that Belphegor would ever call these people vapid- they were probably very intelligent, i-it was just, i-it was just… u-um…

Well…

Belphegor bit her lower lip, fretting anxiously with the ribbon in her hair.

She might have torn it out- along with a large clump of her silky-smooth, freshly shampooed hair- if Mammon hadn't gently brushed her fingers away.

But Mammon's support didn't help all that much.

Belphegor was no Jane Eyre. She was just a useless, pathetic piece of furniture.

* * *

><p>Okonogi greeted them with a warm smile and a small, elegant bow; then took each sister by the hand, after they had curtseyed to him (as per Ange's example), and kissed them on the hand. It was a new experience for all of them. Ronove was a gentleman, but he would certainly never kiss any of the sisters; not even on the hand. If anything, Beato's put-upon butler had a hard time trying to prise Beelzebub <em>off <em>him.

The blonde, bouncy stake had a habit of clinging to him like a koala and whining incessantly for food.

Leviathan was convinced Okonogi had kissed her hand the longest, and spent a good five minutes boasting about it proudly to Lucifer;

"It must be because I'm the most beautiful! Well, I have been drinking five glasses of milk a day, so my skin must be really shining, ahahaha!~ Watch out, big sis, I'm going to upstage you tonight!"

Lucifer had been torn between firing back a cutting insult (_don't you know drinking too much milk makes you fat? I thought you looked a little chubby lately_), or being the mature big sister and trying to avoid a fight. In the end, she settled for something in between and merely ignored Leviathan.

She wasn't going to be drawn into a petty squabble- not at a grand party like this. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to get her revenge.

She was going to prove her superiority to Leviathan by ensnaring a cute boy to dance with all night.

Lucifer smirked proudly, flipping strands of black hair over one shoulder. **That** would show her jealous sister who was the most beautiful~ And Lucifer didn't even need to drink milk.

Satan became very flushed when Okonogi kissed her, and her whole face turned beet red- which was incredibly noticeable when contrasted against her pale blonde hair. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself firing an insult at Okonogi, as she usually did to hide her embarrassment. Ange would probably be really mad if she staked him, huh…?

Thankfully, there was no staking; Okonogi only laughed pleasantly, and said Satan was a very sweet girl. He then promised to dance with her later. Whilst this embarrassed Satan further, it _did _perk her spirits up; so much so that she turned to Asmodeus, who desperately wanted to dance with somebody, and stuck out her tongue.

Okonogi, despite being in his forties, was still incredibly proficient at charming ladies- even ones like Satan.

Once the formalities were over and done with, everyone began to disperse. Much to Belphegor's horror, it seemed her initial worries had been correct.

Her sisters had, indeed… … all split up and left her.

Lucifer and Leviathan were having that competition to find the most handsome dance partners; and it looked like both had succeeded in their missions. Only five minutes into the party, and Lucifer was already being offered a drinks by three men, whilst Leviathan had been drawn into conversation with a rather attractive young businessman.

Satan had stumbled off, blushing heavily, to go and stare at her doe-eyed reflection in the water feature that stood in the middle of Okonogi's garden. Her head was all filled up with hearts, and she was almost swooning over the thought of being offered a dance by somebody like Okonogi. He was the host of the party, so didn't that make him the most important person there? Automatically, Satan had won the little competition between the older sisters to find the best dance partner. Finally- something was going right for her!

However, triumph wasn't the only emotion that made her face go red.

Satan would never have admitted it, not even to herself. She would have become angry if anybody asked her. Yet it was easy to guess her true feelings just by looking at her dazed expression.

It looked like she was starting to develop a little bit of a crush.

If Asmodeus had been there, she would have sighed and muttered softly 'how cuuuute!~'

Mammon had, despite her pledge to take of Belphegor, been led away by a prospective dance partner mere moments after she curtseyed to Okonogi- and she already had a line of people literally queuing up to claim her next. She really did look beautiful in her black gown, though, so maybe it was only to be expected Mammon would be in high demand. It looked as though Mammon had learnt the most effective way to gain attention was not to dress incredibly outrageously, but to look elegant. She was no longer trying to steal attention via notoriety, but by genuine admiration instead.

Her greedy desire to manipulate all the men's hearts certainly was going well.

Beelzebub, being Beelzebub, was eating. She would have been quite happy to eat all night, and didn't really like dancing all that much. It seemed like a waste of energy. It was too bad for her, then, that her cute squeals of delight, unabashed way of eating and starry-eyed compliments about the taste and texture of this gourmet food was deeply enamouring a man of a similar mind who ran his own restaurant.

This restaurant owner had never seen another human being (or demon stake; but he didn't know that) who adored food as much as he did. This girl might have looked uncivilized to others, who were turning their nose up at her noisy antics in disgust, but this man Beelzebub looked like a true angel! She was an angel of food!

Her enthusiasm and dedication was just so wonderful this restaurant owner had fallen in love, right on the spot. He wanted nothing more than to dance with her; and even if she couldn't dance, he wouldn't mind, because she was absolutely _perfect_.

Beelzebub, even if she didn't know it-might just have found her life partner, who was watching her shyly by a plate of quiche.

Asmodeus, like her older sisters, was searching for somebody to dance with… but more shall be said of her exploits later.

That left poor Belphegor all on her own.

Now, Belphegor was an intelligent girl, so she had created a plan for such an eventuality. She had decided she would follow Ange about if her sisters left her, so she would at least have one ally to rely on. If she stuck by that plan, everything should be fine.

Of course, life doesn't always go according to plan.

Belphegor couldn't follow Ange, because her attention was being fully commanded by Okonogi. He was something rather important-sounding about the distribution of Ange's remaining money, and despite his light smile his tone was rather serious. Conversations like that, though Okonogi said it would only take 'a few minutes', could drag on for _hours._

"I'm sorry to discuss boring things like this with you at a party, Miss Ange, but this chat about your affairs has been overdue for a few months," said Okonogi.

"Oh. Is that so? Well, I don't mind. I enjoy intelligent conversation more than dancing… or food."

Ange turned to look at Beelzebub, who was happily helping herself to everything at the buffet tables, and smiled. She was too amused by Beelzebub's excited, childish antics to scold her.

"Excellent," said Okonogi brightly. "Well, if you'll just follow me… ah, sorry, Miss." He turned to Belphegor, who had- hopefully- been following Ange, like a lost chick. "This is a private discussion. I realize you're just being mindful of Miss Ange's wellbeing, given you're… one of her 'servants', yes?"

Belphegor quailed under Okonogi's words and muttered a soft, "Y-yes…"

Ange interrupted with a forceful, "I prefer the term 'friend'," but Okonogi wasn't really listening. He had more important things to do than worry about hurting Belphegor's feelings.

"Yes, yes. But, regardless…" Okonogi turned back to Belphegor, still smiling his charming smile. "You don't need to worry. Ange is in capable hands. I promise I won't hurt her. I know I might look strange, with these pointed ears, but I assure you I'm a human through and through, so you don't need to protect her. Ahahaha~"

His laugh was charming, but every so slightly impatient. It made Belphegor flinch. It felt like her blood had been replaced with liquid nitrogen.

She…

S-she was being a burden, wasn't she?

She was holding up an important conversation by being silly… a-and she was irritating the host who had invited her to this party. W-wasn't… w-wasn't that incredibly bad manners?

Belphegor looked at the floor, red-faced; fiddling with her fingers nervously. She felt like a small child who had just been scolded. Momentarily, she forgot even how to talk. It took a few seconds before she had control of her speech again- and even that 'control' was shaky, to say the least.

"U-um, I… u-um… I-I… I-I…"

Bowing her head deeply (there were some habits she couldn't get rid of. Even though Ange called her a 'friend', Belphegor still acted like a skittish, timid young servant), and muttered a cowed, "I-I-I'm sorry… …"

Ange blinked at the top of Belphegor's head, eyes clouding with worry. Belphegor wasn't very good at dealing with large crowds of people; that was a known fact. It would be fine if one of her sisters was there to support her, but on her own…

Sending Belphegor out all by herself, in a garden full of strangers, would only upset her. Already, just at the prospect of being left alone, Belphegor was shaking like a leaf- and Ange swore there were tears in her eyes.

Surely it wouldn't hurt if Belphegor could listen to her and Okonogi's discussion, would it? Ange knew it was a private conversation, but Belphegor was a reliable girl who didn't gossip or share secrets.

Ange trusted her.

"Hey, Belphegor…" said Ange softly. She was using the same tone of voice one would adapt when talking to a frightened, cornered animal. "I'm sure it would be no trouble. You can stay if you like."

But Belphegor didn't hear Ange's sentence properly. It felt like a great multitude of bees were buzzing around inside her head, drowning out the noise around her. This always happened when she panicked.

Suddenly, the soothing sound of the strings in the background sounded like a great many fingernails scraping down a blackboard.

Belphegor only heard one part of Ange's sentence.

_Trouble._

Was… w-was she really causing trouble?

She'd known it…

S-she'd known it from the start.

She was disgracing Ange in front of Okonogi, acting like a young child. S-she was a proud Stake of Purgatory! She… s-she couldn't hold Ange back.

Belphegor swallowed heavily.

Then, she forced herself to reply, in the most level tones possible, "I-in that case… Allow me to take my leave. I apologize, Miss Ange."

"Wait, Belphegor-"

But Belphegor felt far too awkward to stay there and listen to Ange scold her.

That was why she ran.


	186. The New Year's party, part 4

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #186: The New Year's party, part 4

* * *

><p>Fortunately (if you happen to enjoy reading about others' misery) or unfortunately (if you do not), Belphegor was not the only having a terrible time.<p>

Asmodeus was, too.

"Huh? What's a child like you doing at a sophisticated party like this?"

"Shouldn't you be at home watching cartoons or something? Isn't that what children do nowadays? Ahahaha~"

"And what's with those twin tails, anyway? They make you look about twelve years old."

"No! Don't tell me! _Are_ you twelve years old?"

"Aaah, well, that explains it then! You wondered into Okonogi's party by mistake, didn't you?"

"Why don't you go home to your mommy, darling? There, there, who's a good girl? Ah ha ha ha~"

Asmodeus' face turned bright red. She looked down anxiously at her hands, fingers linked together at her front; shifting from foot to foot. Asmodeus wasn't a particularly shy girl. However, even the bravest of souls would have been intimated if they had been in the youngest stake's shoes.

Asmodeus had been oh-so-innocently exploring the interior of Okonogi's mansion. Like the garden, the elegant dining room, lounge and billiards room (who had a room solely for playing billiards outside of the Cluedo game board? Okonogi was so rich it was bordering on ridiculous) were also filled with guests; most of whom wanted to escape from the chilly weather outside. The seven sisters had all been too excited (or, in Belphegor's case, nervous) to notice, but it really _was_ quite cold in the garden.

The older sisters had all been focusing on gaining a fan base outside, but Asmodeus was sure she'd get the upper hand over both Lucifer, Levia _and _Mammon if she staked out the inside of the mansion, where there were even more people, and potential suitors.

If the other sisters thought the garden was crowded, they should have seen the inside.

Asmodeus felt a little in awe of the whole thing, really. There were so many handsome men and beautiful women- and even though she was a headstrong girl, she found herself feeling very lost and confused.

Irritatingly enough, she noticed she was a lot shorter than most people. She was short, so it was only natural fully grown men would be bigger than her- but the other women shouldn't have towered over her like that, at least!

They were cheating. Those women weren't really that tall. It was only because they were wearing high heels- most of them a good six inches high.

Asmodeus couldn't walk in shoes like that. Virgilia had tried to teach her, with Ronove on standby to help her up when she fell (and he occasionally offered advice, too; though how he knew how to walk in heels was a complete mystery), but Asmodeus just didn't get it. She didn't know how many times she'd fallen over… mainly because she banged her head so hard she forgot how to count.

Once, she had slipped and banged her head against the floor so sharply she forgot her own name for a few moments. It was only through the taste of Ronove's delicious tea she was able to get her act together again.

So Asmodeus, despite her best efforts, hadn't mastered the art of walking in heels for Okonogi's party. She'd been a little sad- but she hadn't let it dampen her sunny spirits. Weren't slippers (glass ones- but that, according to Virgilia, would have been impractical and uncomfortable) even more fairytale-esque than high heels, anyway? Cinderella certainly didn't leave a stiletto behind for a prince to find.

Asmodeus hadn't thought it would matter that much.

But she'd be wrong.

She was beginning to feel more and more like a little kid, surrounded by all these people she had to crane her neck up to look at. And that was only the beginning of her troubles.

Asmodeus, despite being slightly overwhelmed, had- nevertheless- been enjoying herself. As she walked through Okonogi's mansion, weaving through the crowds of guests, she'd been in awe of her surroundings. She felt exactly like Alice who had tumbled through Wonderland.

Was there a love interest in Alice?

Asmodeus couldn't remember… That knowledge had probably been driven out of her head thanks to one too many stumbles in her stupid heels, too.

Oh well~ It didn't matter!~

Asmodeus was sure she, at least, would find a handsome prince- even if Alice didn't. Then they could live happily ever after~

Aaaah, that sounded so nice!~ Kyakyakyaaa~

But Asmodeus' dreams were soon cut short.

Cut, and brutally torn apart… thanks to the two women who had cornered her by the grandfather clock in the lounge.

The women might have been aged anywhere between fifteen or thirty. Their faces were daubed with make-up, so it was difficult to tell. However, Asmodeus- despite being a thousand year old Stake of Purgatory- felt like she _had _to refer to them as 'women'. Asmodeus might have been aeons old furniture, but she still wore her hair in pigtails, and she liked playing with stuffed toys. She couldn't imagine these women playing with cute teddy bears, or making stuffed lions trek up and down the floor. They were so beautiful Asmodeus couldn't help but liken them to princesses.

In comparison, she must have looked like a lowly maid who slept on the fireside. Not even her light pink dress, chosen by Mammon's expert eye, could save her.

She was too short, and she couldn't wear heels, and her hair was too childish, and… a-and…

And Asmodeus knew these girls were prettier than she was.

It was impossible to argue the point.

It was a _fact;_ just as 'the sky is blue' and 'the grass is green'.

And that was why their insults hurt so much.

She didn't know what to say, what to do. This was nothing like fighting physically with humans on one of Beato's game boards. Although Asmodeus sometimes felt guilty for being mean, she still thought fighting could be kind of fun; and she was so much stronger than most of her opponents, she never got seriously injured.

This was a different kind of fighting, and Asmodeus couldn't win with brute force. She could only win with words.

But Asmodeus wasn't very good with words.

She couldn't defend herself.

She was completely helpless.

"Ahahaha~ Come on, cute little kid," cooed one of the women. "Why don't you go back home? Why are you still standing there with that stupid look on your face?"

"Oh?" The second smirked; raising a brow. "Are you waiting for us to hold your hand and accompany you? Sorry, but we're busy. Real women like us want to spend the night dancing with handsome guys, you know."

"Nooot that you'd understand anything about _that_."

"Of course not~ We'll tell you aaaall about it when you're older. But you're much too young to have a boyfriend. We'll tell all the other guys so they don't get mistaken and dance with you, okay? I'd only confuse you~"

"It's the least we could do."

"Ahahahaha~"

Asmodeus ducked her head; face growing redder and redder. Her eyes beaded with tears. I-if Mammon was here, or Lucifer… o-or maybe even Satan… or, or Ange, or _anybody_, they would have had some incredibly witty comebacks to fire at these two girls- Asmodeus was sure of it.

They'd definitely be able to defend themselves.

But Asmodeus couldn't.

Insults like this would have made Mammon laugh… but Asmodeus wasn't like that. Being the youngest sister, her self esteem was rather fragile. You'd never know just by looking at her. Just as Satan hid her embarrassment with anger, Asmodeus tried to hide her poor sense of self worth with bright smiles and a cheery personality.

Cheeriness couldn't help her here, though.

Asmodeus… had been looking forward to this party. S-she really had. She'd thought (naïvely, perhaps) that she would look just like a princess… a-and she'd fall in love with a handsome prince.

But she'd just being deluding herself.

She wasn't a princess… and nobody would dance with her.

She would be… … all alone.

She wasn't sophisticated or elegant or charming or cute like Lucifer, Leviathan, Mammon and Satan.

She was just an awkward little kid who couldn't walk in heels without falling and bumping her head, trying hard to be somebody she wasn't.

It was true.

It was all true…

Asmodeus sniffed; wiping away any oncoming tears with the back of her hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red, a-and her throat was starting to hurt, a-and-

"H-huh…?"

Asmodeus' eyes widened slightly.

There was a light pressure on her head. Somebody was patting it.

It was an unfamiliar, elderly man… with a warm smile.

"Hey, little girl," he said comfortingly. "Why are you crying? Did you get separated from your parents? I know a few people who brought their children with them, as an 'enlightening experience'… or because they left it until last minute to find babysitters, ahaha… I guess you're one of the unlucky kids who got roped into going to this party, right? It's really not a nice atmosphere for young people; there are too many psuedo-intellectuals... If you want, I can help you find your parents."

It was funny, really…

In the end, it was those kind words from a concerned gentleman that made Asmodeus cry even harder.

She… really _must _have looked like a little kid.

What was she doing there?

She couldn't think of one single good reason.

That was why she ran away.

Just like Belphegor had done before her.


	187. The New Year's party, part 5

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #187: The New Year's party, part 5

* * *

><p>Unlike Asmodeus and Belphegor, Amakusa had been enjoying himself quite thoroughly. So far, he'd danced with at least a dozen rather beautiful women, proclaimed his undying love for nine, received kisses from four, a little extra from two, and a slap across the face from one.<p>

Overall, the night was going very, very well indeed- and it wasn't even midnight yet.

The end of this year had been truly _wonderful _for the young, rather handsome yet completely insufferable ladies' man; and he had plans to ensure the beginning of next year went off with a bang, too.

A bigger bang than any of the fireworks could provide, hihihi~

Amakusa had a battle plan, you see. Everybody got a little sentimental around New Year's, didn't they? Even the girls with the hardest of hearts could get kind of mushy as they mused about the 'good old times'- and that was when Amakusa would strike.

He was a man on a mission.

When 12:00 struck, he was going to seek out Ushiromiya Ange, and he _was_ going to kiss her- come hell or a vicious kick between the legs.

He wanted to do at least once, even if he was torn limb for limb for his efforts. Ange acted so frosty and aloof, so giving her quick a kiss- even just a light one on the side of her cheek- would have been, to Amakusa, the equivalent of scaling the top of Mt. Everest. That little lady wasn't the prettiest or the most sophisticated of girls, but Amakusa liked her funny ways all the same. He liked her a great deal more than the other girls he knew. And yet, she always acted so distant…

She would be his biggest challenge yet, hihihi~

Ah, but Amakusa couldn't go and kiss Ange right now. For one thing, she was still talking to Okonogi. For another, it wasn't midnight yet. The fireworks hadn't even been lit- and Amakusa had to try and grab a kiss whilst the night sky was illuminated with splashes of bright color. It was a rule he'd imposed on himself, for no real reason other than making his night more interesting.

And Amakusa still had a promise he had to fulfil for a pretty lady. He'd already danced with Leviathan, but he still had to find Asmodeus. He said he'd dance with her, and a gentleman never broke their promises.

Well… Amakusa was a far cry from a 'gentleman', but he still didn't like making cute girls cry.

"Hey, girls," said Amakusa smoothly. With a charming, well-practised smile, he sided up to the two beautiful fairytale princesses Asmodeus had only just been talking to. "Have you seen that girl I told you about? The one with the cute pigtails and the pink dress?"

The two looked at one another. Brows raised, they shared rather viscious smirks- just like predators who had managed to capture and devor their helpless prey. Now, they were contragulating each other over the kill.

Then, one of the girls looked back at Amakusa, and forced a look of 'sincere' regret upon her pretty face.

"Oh no, I'm sorry," she simpered. "I didn't see her."

"If we had, we would tell you though," put in the other.

"Of course," said the first, nodding her head. Her nut brown curls bounced about her heart-shaped face. "Although…" She smiled. "It seems a shame, for you to wait for this one girl. Why don't you relax and dance with me instead?"

Instantly, the other girl turned to glower at her so-called 'friend'; all traces of camaraderie gone.

They had already scared off any young girls with appearances similar to the one Amakusa had described. Now, they had no prey left to target but each other- and so the two girls drew their claws once more, just like fighting alley cats.

"No, don't dance with her. What about _me_?"

"I thought we agreed he would dance with _me _first."

"W-we never made any such agreement!"

"Why do you have to be so _selfish_? I thought we were working together!"

"We _were_, until you turned around and betrayed me!"

Amakusa whistled under his breath as they argued- and, with a small smirk, ducked away into the crowd. He didn't really want to spend any more time than necessary with bickering people like that.

_Man._

Girls like that were kind of scary.

And he'd thought Ange was bad.

* * *

><p>It really was quite cold in the garden, but Asmodeus hardly noticed it. Her cheeks were dyed red with embarassment and that was more than enough to keep her warm.<p>

She wove through the people still dancing; feet falling with light, haphazard _thump_s against the floor that matched the erratic beating of her own little heart.

S-stupid…

S-she was _stupid_…

A few people looked at her alarm as she tore past them, head bowed, pink cheeks stained with tears. A few called to her; asked if she was alright; reached out their hands- but to Asmodeus, they didn't look particularly comforting. The party guests had all transformed from princes and princesses into horrible demons.

If she slowed down… then they would all start to insult her, too.

They were all judging her; shaking their heads, and silently thinking, _oh dear, what is this little child doing amongst us? Maybe she's lost… ufufufu~_

They were… all her enemies.

The pleasant music from the string quartet soon became painful- almost mocking. It felt like each individual note was laughing at her.

The light hearted conversation that surrounded her on all sides felt almost like a real physical barrier, just like the purple ones Shannon could create. They smashed into Asmodeus from all sides, making the youngest stake feel weak at the knees.

She was… the _youngest_.

A child.

She didn't belong at Okonogi's high class party. She didn't belong in his grand house, or even grander garden. Neither did she have a right to drink any of that champagne, or taste any of that caviar, or listen to that music- or even wear the soft pink dress Mammon had picked out her.

She was just a kid.

She…

S-she couldn't even _walk _in heels properly.

W-why was she so useless…?

When Asmodeus lifted her head, wiping tears away and snivelling like a baby, she noticed- from the corner of her eye- that even Beelzebub had somehow secured a dance partner. The Stake of Gluttony was being twirled about rather gracelessly by a reasonably attractive young man- and though both of them were quite awful at dancing, and others were giving them a wide berth for fear of being bowled over, they were having quite a good time. They kept laughing, at least.

It looked like Beelzebub had managed to find a guy just as childish as she was.

The stars in the sky and the lights in the trees were bright, yes… but the happy aura that radiated from that immature pair was almost blinding. Asmodeus almost had to shield her eyes.

How that had happened?

How did Beelzebub get a guy like _that_?

Beelzebub didn't even _like _dancing. She hadn't _wanted_ to dance. She'd only gone to the party for the food. So why did _she _get a 100% happy ending like that, when Asmodeus- the one who desperately wanted it- didn't?

It was so unfair!

This injustice stung Asmodeus like salt water in open wounds. She didn't want to stay there and watch other people having a good time; not anymore- not while she felt so miserable.

This party wasn't the right place for her. Asmodeus was so miserable she felt a more fitting environment for a pitiful girl like her would have been down a drain.

It might have been childish… but she wanted to go home.

She wanted to curl up under her bed with her stuffed toys and hibernate, just like a bear.

Sadly, she couldn't do that yet- and she didn't want to go and pester Ange to take her home. That would be selfish, childish behavior, and would spoil the party for everybody. Her older sisters were having fun, and Ange most likely was as well, and Asmodeus didn't want to ruin that.

So there was only one thing she could do.

She had to go and hide.

Feeling about as elegant as a young child playing hide and seek, Asmodeus ran off through Okonogi's garden. Her shoes crunched against the gravel underfoot, but she hardly noticed; nor did she care. She strayed further and further from the path that led through the artistically arranged flower gardens- more elegant, even, than the roses on Rokkenjima- until she could no longer see the mansion anymore. Within a few minutes, Asmodeus found herself lost amidst a sea of greenery; surrounded by large hedgerows and tall trees.

She was alone.

None of the other guests had come back here. They had no reason to.

She was all alone… in the dark- with no dance partner, and no happy ending; and now she wasn't running she was starting to get cold, and her eyes were all red and puffy, and her favorite shoes were all muddy, and the hem of her dress had been torn, and, and, a-and-

"Kyaaaaaah!"

Asmodeus gave a loud squeal of surprise, as she unwittingly- blindly- blundered, head-first, right into something.

Or _someone._

Because most inanimate objects weren't really in the habit of saying '_ow_'.

Asmodeus' eyes widened. H-had she suddenly, somehow, stumbled across an insane murderer hiding in Okonogi's garden? There was no reason for a normal party guest to be out here in the dark- so, if this were a TV drama, this shadowy figure Asmodeus had encountered would **have **to be the murderer.

What about their motive? Hm, well… maybe they hadn't been given an invitation to the party. That was it; they were one of Okonogi's old friends, and they had been overlooked. Filled with rage, this mysterious person decided to hide in his garden, and silently pick off all the stray party guests they could find as a form of revenge.

And Asmodeus had fallen right into their web.

Her corpse would probably be found by the others later; sprawled on the cold ground with her hair all messy and clothes covered with blood. Then maybe those two girls would be sorry they'd ever said those mean things to her.

It was very petty, but Asmodeus felt mildly comforted by that thought.

That would sure show those meanies.

But, there was one major flaw in Asmodeus' little fantasy murder mystery scenario.

Maindly…

Asmodeus recognized the voice of the 'murderer'.

She knew that small gasp of pain; that nervous 'w-who's there?'; that stutter; that voice; that _everything_.

It wasn't a murderer at all.

… …It was Belphegor.


	188. The New Year's party, part 6

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #188: The New Year's party, part 6

* * *

><p>Ange's conversation with Okonogi finished about half an hour before midnight. The matters relating to her inheritance were all sorted out quite neatly and nicely without any raised voices; instead, it was smiles all around.<p>

Well… Ange hadn't been smiling very much, but she never did. It made her mouth ache. The sentiments of a smile were still there, even if the physical thing wasn't.

Okonogi excused Ange and, with a wink, said he was going to go and claim his dance with Miss Satan before midnight.

"It'll be a good way to end the year," he'd said teasingly- and Ange found herself sighing, but she wasn't particularly annoyed. Satan liked it when people paid attention to her. That was the main reason why she shouted so often at the others; she didn't want to feel left out. Whether he was aware or not, Okonogi was actually doing something very kind by paying attention to her.

Ange soon found herself wandering around Okonogi's mansion in search of the people she had really wanted to spend time with.

The Seven Sisters of Purgatory.

Ange had already come across Lucifer, Leviathan and Mammon in the garden, and they were all enjoying themselves. Though their quest to find dance partners might have been something of a competition at the start, it seemed they all- even Mammon- had forgotten about this. They were more focused on having fun than trying to prove a point.

To Ange's surprise, she found Beelzebub had also managed to secure some kind of date. As Beelzebub excitedly explained, with much gesticulating and rocking back and forth so her blonde drills bounced, he owned his own restaurant, and in between dancing very badly they'd been talking all about food. The stuff they were talking about sounded pretty technical, really... they were using a lot of strange culinary terminology Ange had never heard before, like 'gaufrette' and 'tartine' and 'vemicelli custard'. The most Ange could cook was pancakes, and sometimes she even burnt those. Once, she poured the pancake batter in the pan and then forgot about it- but the smoke alarm's high-pitched beeping soon brought her back to the charred mess of black ashes stuck to the bottom of the saucepan.

Beelzebub often did a very good job of acting like an airhead, but it seemed even she was very intelligent when it came to certain areas of conversation. Even this restaurant owner seemed in awe of her; as though she were some kind of celestial being imparting with him divine knowledge of another universe.

Ange couldn't join in that conversation at all, so she soon left Beelzebub; smiling a little to herself, as she observed the rosy aura that surrounded the two food fanatics.

In the end, the only people Ange had yet to see were Belphegor and Asmodeus.

Hm… Asmodeus was probably having fun trying to seek out her Prince Charming, but Ange was a little worried about Belphegor. Belphegor wasn't really very good at talking to people on her own- so chances were, the poor girl was probably hiding.

Ange felt a small stab of guilt at that.

She should have stopped Belphegor going off on her own. The silly stake was probably crouched behind a hedge in the garden somewhere, arms curled round her knees, trying not to cry.

Ange sighed.

She'd been a pretty crappy friend, huh?

Even so, despite the cold prickles of guilt up and down her spine… it felt_ nice_, using that word. 'Friend'… Ange hadn't had any need to use that word for the greater part of her whole life.

It was a little funny, really, thought Ange with a self-deprecating smile, that she should have so many friends now; and a whole _seven _of them of that. Ange still hadn't quite become accustomed to the idea.

It seemed like too many good things were happening in her life all at once- so much so it was a little overwhelming. Up until very recently, Ange's life had been a string of misfortunes after the other, and her future had looked bleak.

Future?

Ha.

Well, that was a joke. And not a particularly good one at that.

Ange hadn't had a future at all. Instead, she'd just been a pitiful girl staggering about on a so-called 'mission' to find the truth… but in reality she had only wanted to find a place to die.

Rokkenjima was the perfect choice, given that was where her family were. Or what was left of them.

But Ange wasn't like that now. She certainly wouldn't dream of committing suicide anymore; not when, with 'love', she had finally been able to open her eyes.

Friends.

The seven sisters… really were.

She… wasn't alone anymore.

She was happy.

And she had them to thank for that.

So now, she had to return the favor. They had comforted her- so it was only natural she should comfort them, too... even if she wasn't very good at empathizing with people, or saying kind words. She'd never had very much practise.

Ange was a little rusty on how friendship worked, given she had never really experienced it before; but she was sure it had to go something like that.

It had to.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here, Belphie?"<p>

"U-um, well, I…" Belphegor looked down at her shoes. She anxiously began to fret with her side ponytail, as she was prone to doing in times of duress. It was a good thing it was so dark outside, or Asmodeus would have seen how red her face was. "U-um, no reason…"

"So you were sitting outside, behind a tree, for… nothing?" Asmodeus frowned. "That's not very sensible- and that doesn't sound like you. You _always _do sensible things."

"U-um, well… I-I just didn't want to be a burden to Ange, that's all!"

Asmodeus blinked in confusion, tilting her head to one side. "You were being a burden?"

"U-um, I… I-I was… I think…"

"But you're not annoying, Belphie. IIII don't believeeee you~"

"I… I… um…"

Belphegor blushed even more darkly and began to trip over her words; unsure of what to say. It was impossible to tell that Belphegor was such a well-read girl when she began to stammer hopelessly like that- and it was such a waste, really. If she had a little more faith in herself, Asmodeus was sure Belphegor would be good at making interesting conversation.

She just didn't know how to start.

Even though Belphegor was older than Asmodeus (all of the sisters were- as Asmodeus was only too aware), Asmo sometimes felt a little sorry for her big sister. She was the quietest one in the family, so she was often ignored or left out. Was that why she wasn't very good at talking to others in general? She was worried about being ignored- so she never tried?

Maybe…

It looked like the party atmosphere really had taken a toll on Belphegor. She was breathing heavily, trying to calm her shattered nerves. Asmodeus couldn't see all that well in the dark, surroundings lit only by the moon and the stars, but she could tell Belphegor's body was trembling just as badly as her voice.

"I-I was being a burden to Ange by following her around… I-I shouldn't have acted so childishly; I-I knew she was talking about something important, and I had no right to listen to it, a-and, and… I… I-I… … I… …"

"Was too scared to try and talk to anybody else?"

Asmodeus spoke softly. However, it still made Belphegor flinch.

After a brief pause, the Stake of Sloth gave a small, embarrassed 'mm… …' and nodded her head once up, once down, in assent.

Asmodeus herself had been feeling miserable until a few moments ago- but when she watched poor Belphie getting so worked up, her own problems began to pale in comparison. And, although it was mean, she couldn't help but feel a little comforted. At least she wasn't the only sister who was having a rotten time.

"Belphie. You're being silly."

Belphegor winced again. "Mm… I-I know, b-but-"

"No, Belphie, you don't understand. You're… being really silly, bbecause you're not a burden at all!"

Speaking emphatically, as though she were delivering a rousing speech from a stage, Asmodeus looked Belphegor dead in the eye; her resolve unwavering.

Even if she was the youngest sister, and considered the most 'immature', that wasn't necessarily true. Was wanting other people to be happy 'immature'? Was it 'nosy' and 'childish' to try and understand others' problems and then sympathize with them? Was Asmodeus an annoying brat for being cheerful?

No.

She wasn't.

She was _sure _she wasn't.

And that was why Asmodeus spoke with such determination.

Nobody had come to save her from those two horrible girls- but Asmodeus had a chance to comfort somebody this time, and she wasn't going to let it go to waste; regardless of how she felt. You had to help everybody, right?

"Asmo…? H-how can you say that?" Belphegor muttered, fingers curling round her ponytail. "I-I… I… I-I can't even talk to other people properly, a-and I can't do anything all by myself, a-and-"

"And **I** can't walk in high heels, and everybody thinks I'm a little kid, and these two mean girls made fun of me and, um… they made me cry… hehe… b-but, you see, bad things happen to everybody? I think that's the point I'm trying to make here? Ehehe…"

"Huh?" Belphegor's eyes widened; her own misery momentarily forgotten. "Why would anybody say horrible things to you…?"

"Hehe~ I don't knooow~ But, I'm fine! I think… Well, I am now, after talking to you." Asmodeus smiled embarrassedly.

And, so saying, she reached forwards and gently took hold of Belphegor's hands; pulling them away from her twin tail before she tugged it right of her scalp.

"Belphie, you're a really nice big sis! You're really smart and pretty, and you never get in anybody's way or anything! You're not a _burden_. And don't ever say you are. Even as a joke. Though, you don't joke very much, do you?"

"U-um… W-well, I don't know. I-if you're sure, then I guess, um…"

"I **am** sure," said Asmodeus firmly, nodding her head. "I don't tell lies. If we weren't in the human world, I'd say it red! Oh, but, um… eheh, I never had the authority to use that anyways~" She smiled, gently bumping herself upside the head with a fist. "Silly me. But I'm still sure. You're not a burden."

"And," put in another voice, "_I'm _sure as well. You're my _friend_."

Both Belphegor and Asmodeus turned around at that. Belphegor's face turned the same color of beetroot. H-had somebody overheard her really embarrassing conversation…? I-if they had, she'd die; she'd just die! W-why didn't a hole open up in the ground and swallow her whole?

Meanwhile, Asmodeus gave a small squeak of surprise, like a mouse. W-was this newcomer, who had crept up on them so silently, the murderer she'd mistaken Belphegor for? W-was there really a murderer in Okonogi's party?

"Hey. Why are you looking at me like that?" asked the very familiar girl, as she planted her hands on her hips. "I'm not _that _scary, am I?"

…Of course, it wasn't a murderer. There was no such thing; and Asmodeus had been spending far too much time with Beatrice if she kept trying to turn an innocent, heart-warming story into a murder mystery.

Asmodeus knew who that was.

So did Belphegor.

It was Ushiromiya Ange.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I swear, this story was meant to be shorter than this… XD Next part is the last one. For reals.


	189. The New Year's party, part 7

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #189: The New Year's party, part 7

* * *

><p>Poor Belphegor was so startled by Ange's sudden appearance a tremor ran through her whole body. She very nearly overbalanced- and would've fallen backwards, onto her butt, if she hadn't been able to steady herself <em>just<em> in time.

But she still couldn't steady the look on her face.

Her eyes were wide with ill suppressed surprise, until it looked like they were in danger of falling out of their sockets. She kept trembling, as though she were made out of delicate rice paper. Meanwhile, if her face turned any redder it could have been mistaken for a tomato.

A tomato with a nose, and a cute side ponytail.

If Belphegor's initial reaction was to take a few steps backwards and look at her feet, like a shy girl waiting at a school dance for somebody to take her hand, then Asmodeus' was the complete opposite.

With a small, happy cry of 'Ange!~', Asmo ran forwards-

"H-hey, Asmo- gaah!"

-and pulled Ange into an almost bone-shattering hug.

"Ange!~ Ange, I missed you- I really missed you! Kyaaa~!"

Asmodeus squealed happily and rubbed her cheek against Ange's; creating enough friction she might have been able to start a fire. Asmodeus didn't care, though. She was the youngest sister, so she always tried to act mature to prove to her older sisters how incredible she was really- but, when she was just with Ange and Belphie, she was allowed to be a little childish, right?

Besides, Asmodeus didn't believe in hiding her own feelings. That was stupid. Belphie did that all the time, and it only made her unhappy. Although Asmodeus was acting immature… maybe she was really quite intelligent, not bottling up her emotions.

Asmodeus had really missed Ange. When those two mean girls bullied her, Ange was one of the first people Asmodeus had thought of to come and save her.

Of course, it was pretty silly that deadly witches' furniture would need bailing out of awkward situations by the witches they were meant to defend. Ronove would certainly never have that problem; and Asmo couldn't imagine Gaap would either, or Lucifer.

But Ange wasn't just Asmodeus' master.

She was her friend, too.

And friends helped each other out… right?

Asmodeus was glad she wasn't alone anymore. She had Ange, and she had Belphie- and… maybe that was all she needed.

"A-asmo… A-asmo, you're _choking _me… …."

Too bad the one person Asmo loved the most in the whole world might die if she didn't stop hugging her.

Humans really were kind of brittle. Asmo became only too aware of that when she saw Ange's face was turning _blue. _That didn't look healthy. When people turned funny colors on those medical health documentaries Belphe liked (for some bizarre, unfathomable reason), it was usually a very, very bad sign.

A very bad sign indeed.

Springing away from Ange in alarm, Asmo cried, "E-eep! U-um, I'm sorry, Ange! I-I wasn't really trying to kill you! I-I promise, I'm not the culprit! I-I'm not…!"

"W-what culprit?" squeaked Belphegor.

"Well, you know… In large social situations like this, in a party filled with rich people, there's _always _a culprit," said Asmodeus knowledgably, jabbing one finger in the air as she made her point.

"Yes, but that's only in _movies_ and _books_, when there's a detective on hand to solve the mystery," said Ange, with a sigh. "Don't start turning Okonogi's valued friends and business partners into murders, please. I think you're one of the most dangerous people here."

Asmodeus giggled. "Well, maybe…"

Ange smiled and began to dust down her skirt with both hands. Then, she rearranged her mussed-up hair, securing her cute plastic hair ties so they didn't fall out.

Ange was quite the deadpan girl, but she might have cried if she lost those hair ties. They were only solid, physical reminder of her beloved big brother she had left now. Everything else about him- his smile, his laugh, the way he'd pat her head or read her bedtime stories or bake funny-looking cookies with her- was slowly fading from her mind. Just like shapes drawn into the sand with a stick, no matter how much love you put into drawing them, they'd just get washed away by the tide.

Amakusa had teased her Ange a little about wearing her hair so childishly to such an adult party- 'especially when you keep making fun of me about my ponytail and my hat, hihihi~' However, there'd been no malice in his words. Amakusa knew perfectly well just how much those hair ties meant to Ange.

When he poked fun at her, his smile had looked softer than usual.

That was why Ange hadn't pinched him when he said that.

I-it wasn't because she actually liked him or anything, n-no way…

"Hey, Ange~ Why are you blushing?"

And Ange was snapped back into the world of the living with a bump.

W-what was with that accusatory tone in Asmodeus' voice? And why was she smiling like that? A-all of a sudden, Ange was beginning to feel a little intimidated by the otherwise sweet and harmless stake. Of course, this only made her blush harder.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't you? Ohhh? Kekeke~ I thought, by your funny face, that something really good had happened to you~ Did you get any nice boys to dance with you?"

Ange buried her embarrassment behind faux anger and dismissively folded her arms.

"_Please_." She rolled her eyes. "I've been talking with Okonogi for the past two hours- and he's hardly likely to make my maidenly heart _throb_."

"No, but Satan liked him~"

"I'm very happy for her, but our tastes are not the same. Really… I haven't danced with anybody tonight at all. Like a certain somebody else I know?"

"H-huh? What?"

"Don't act surprised. I heard you," said Ange. "I know you haven't danced with anybody either. Which is a shame, really… because I know you were looking forward to it, weren't you, Asmodeus?"

"Um, yeah, I guess, but… um… Well, I can't do anything about now… Eheh…"

"Well, I wonder. I mean…" Ange smiled- and extended an arm towards Asmodeus. "You don't just have to dance with guys. You can dance with me. And Belphegor too, if she wants."

There was a small silence.

Asmodeus looked between Ange and Belphegor confusedly.

"A-are you serious…?"

"Of course I'm serious. Telling lies is rather pointless."

"B-but, um… I… I-I…"

"You only wanted to dance with a 'handsome prince'?"

"No, it's not that, it's just… um… I-I don't want to get in your way or anything?"

"You won't be getting in my way," said Ange firmly. "I offered, didn't I? Unless, you're so embarrassed about having a clumsy girl like me as your dance partner you don't want to- which is understandable, I suppose, but I wish you would just tell me to my face. I know I'm not the sort of person you, ideally, would want to share a dance with. It's fine."

"No, Ange, I-I'm not saying anything like that! I would like to dance with a prince, yeah, but… u-um…"

Asmodeus scuffed her ostentatiously not-high-heeled flats on the floor, suddenly overcome by a sudden deluge of shyness which most often assaulted Belphegor. Was this how Belphie felt 24/7? Asmodeus hoped not- because it _sucked_.

"I-I mean… Ange… A-ange is… just like a prince to me, too… Ehehe… A-aah, but, this is so embarrassing…! But… I-I would love to dance with you! T-thank you Ange!"

And with that, Asmodeus- her face colored light pink with gratitude and happiness- pulled Ange into another tight hug.

It didn't really matter, in the end, if she didn't get to dance with a handsome prince, did it? After all… Asmodeus didn't know any of the people at the party- and, realistically, the chance she'd ever get carried away on a white horse by any of them were so slim they were nonexistent. There was a reason fairytales were _tales_, and not real life.

Maybe she'd been thinking a little unrealistically- and that was why she got disappointed.

Asmodeus still had Ange.

And Asmodeus loved Ange far, far more than any stranger.

"I'm glad you're happy, but please don't get too excited," Ange muttered. To a stranger, Ange might have sounded defiant, even surly- but that wasn't the case. She was just embarrassed. Ange still wasn't used to this whole 'friendship' thing, so being hugged was a confusing experience for her. Even so, she still returned Asmodeus' hug- albeit, quite hesitantly, and awkwardly. "I can't dance at all. I've never tried. So, I might mess up, or step on your toes, or-"

"No, it's… fine," said Belphegor. "Um… I-I'm not showing off, I-I hope I'm not, but… I know how to dance… So, I suppose… I mean, only if you want, I… I could teach you…?"

Ange said, "You would? Ah… thank you very much."

Belphegor nodded, and said, "I-I could show Asmo as well, if she wants? I don't know how, um… proficient you are at dancing, but I read up on it because we were going to this party- n-not that I assumed, for a moment, the occasion would arise when I would need to use those skills, b-because nobody would really want to dance with _me_, and I'm not arrogant enough to think I-I'm particularly attractive, b-but I like learning new skills even if I never use them, so, so, u-um, u-um… … o-oww!"

The poor Stake of Sloth had been getting very worked up just trying to give that simple explanation; maybe because of her already frayed nerves… so Asmodeus just did what any kind sister would do.

She intervened.

With one of her fists.

She only bumped her on the head gently, though.

"Belphie. You're babbling."

Belphegor bowed her head in apology- but, mostly, she was trying to hide her own face with her hair. "O-oh, u-um… s-sorry…"

"Don't be sorry. We'd love for you to teach us! You're the smart sis, after all!" said Asmodeus brightly. "Anyways, I was just hoping some cute guy who was _awesome _at, like, the waltz or something, would just lead me around and I wouldn't have to do much~ Buuuut… kekeke~ If my dance partner is as hopeless as Ange, maybe I'll have to do the leading."

Ange pouted, and said, "I-I'm not hopeless! You take that back!"

"Kyaaah!~" Asmodeus wailed; grabbing hold of Belphegor, and roughly using her as a human shield. "Belphie, Belphie, help me! Ange is bullying me! She was pulling my hair!"

"Ahaha… um, w-well, you _did _deserve it… You shouldn't have called her hopeless. I'm sure she'll prove to be very good at dancing?"

Ange smirked. "Heh. You're a nice girl, Belphegor. Maybe I'll just dance with _you_ instead. This clumsy child would only get in my way."

"I-I'm not a clumsy child! Waaah! A-ange, Belphie, you're so mean! Kyaaaaaah!"

And, as the three girls continued to squabble playfully amongst themselves and tease each other… midnight must have struck at some point or another.

The first minutes of the next year were slowly slipping by.

And it was all announced by a loud volley of bangs and crashes split through the night sky.

When the three girls cared to lift their heads, they saw, to their amazement…

"Wow. It's full of stars..."

Asmodeus' words weren't entirely correct. The sky _was_ full of stars- but those pale white pinpricks of distant, possibly dead, stars were being far outshone and overshadowed. Those glowing trails light, ranging from red to blue and running through every hue imaginable in the rainbow, were synthetic, not realistic.

They were fireworks- and they were blooming across the dark sky like flowers.

The night (or should have been early morning?) sky was filled with color- and whether that color came from stars or fireworks, it didn't matter.

It was still beautiful to look at.

So nobody corrected Asmodeus.

The small smile that spread across Asmodeus' face was almost luminous. Feeling a little nostalgic, the youngest stake reached forwards, and linked her hands with Ange and Belphegor.

Together, in a row just like the pretty maids from the nursery rhyme, the three girls stood hand in hand… and watched the sky become saturated with color.

Really, thought Asmodeus, she hadn't been so unlucky after all. Who knew? Maybe it was a good thing nobody had wanted to dance with her.

That meant she got to start the New Year with her best friend and one of her sisters- and that was far, far better than being with some 'prince' she'd never even met.

There was always the coming year to find her one true love, and be swept off her feet.

Yeah… that would definitely happen this year.

And, even if it didn't, it didn't really matter.

After a little instruction… Ange was just as good at dancing as any handsome prince would be.

Maybe even better.

* * *

><p>"Yo, little lady. Where were you? I didn't see you with everyone else when the fireworks were being let off. Did you miss 'em?"<p>

"No," said Ange curtly. "I saw them. I was just watching them with other people."

"Hoh? So you were being anti-social?"

"I already said, I was with other people."

"Alright, alright, Miss Blushing Wallflower~ Hihihi… Though I didn't think you were the type to hide away like that. You should've watched them in the garden with everyone else."

"And get in the way of you trying to flirt with every creature on two legs? No thank you," said Ange primly, rolling her eyes.

"Hihi~ You know me too well."

"Sadly."

"Awww, I know you love me really."

Amakusa grinned easily, and diverted his attention back to the cigarette pinched between his fingers.

Mm~ Nicotine~

It was nice Ange was one of those people who, although they didn't smoke, didn't particularly care when others did. That might have had something to do with Eva's hatred for cigarettes, though. Anything that her Aunt Eva had hated, Ange had instantly accepted. Ange had even told Amakusa in the past, once or twice, that she was thinking about smoking, just to annoy her Aunt. Ange ultimately decided against it, though. It was too much of a hassle.

Amakusa was leant against the side of his car, Ange stood by his side. They were waiting for the rest of stakes to say their goodbyes to the party guests and join them for the noisy return trip home. Asmodeus and Belphegor were already sitting inside the car, talking to one another and smiling.

At the sight of their happy faces, Ange couldn't help but smile too.

"Hey, but… I wasn't flirting with _everyone_, you know," said Amakusa, after a small silence. "There was one person in particular I wanted to see."

"If you're worried about breaking your promise with Asmo, don't. I already danced with her."

"Oh? That's nice. Ahaha, then it sounds like you had a cute, girly time together~" said Amakusa, laughing.

With a well-practised flick of his fingers, he let the cigarette fall to the ground, and then ground it onto the floor with one of his shoes. Then, turning to Ange, he said, "I'm glad you managed to find her. I was looking for the twin-tailed little lady for a while myself; asking around for her and stuff. I heard rumors that some people were kinda mean to her, and they made her cry. It's a shame, that people would say shit like that to a cute girl like her."

"Yes, it is. But it's fine. I made her feel better. And why do you care, anyway?" asked Ange suspiciously, glaring at Amakusa. "I'm not an idiot. I know how you treat women. Really, I'm _glad _she didn't get to dance with you."

"Hihihi, how mean! I like your friends, Angey. They're nice girls. I'd never dream of hurting them. I mean, if I did, they'd _murder _me. Though, you'd probably do something even scarier…"

Ange didn't like laughing at Amakusa's jokes, given it always gave him a swelled head- but, just this once, she couldn't stop herself from snorting.

Amakusa laughed along with her. "See? I didn't have any 'impure designs' against Asmo. I only wanted to keep my promise. But, you already did that for me…" He smiled. "So, now there's only one thing I wanna do. You see… there was another person I really wanted to watch the fireworks with. It just wasn't the same without them."

"Oh? And who's that?" asked Ange, arms folded.

"Well, hihi~ Why don't you take a wild guess? You're pretty smart, so I'm sure you can do it… But I'll give you a hint."

"Oh, how kind of y… y-you…?"

And with that, Amakusa ducked his head down (Ange really was kind of short, wasn't she? And yet, she was so mature and so confident most of the time; when she wasn't bickering with him, that was. How cute~), and, very, very quickly-

-pressed a quick kiss against her cheek.

Ange's face turned light pink.

Ah, now _that _was what Amakusa wanted to do. He'd wanted to kiss Angey all night. He wanted to show that cute, awkward, funny little lady just how much he valued her company- and not just _because _she was a pretty girl, but… maybe, because… she was a lot like an adorable little sister.

And Amakusa didn't really have that many family members to celebrate New Year's with.

He didn't have _any _family members.

Ange was the closest thing he had.

So, he'd missed her.

And he'd wanted to kiss her like that at least once; just to see if he could, and to see if Ange trusted him enough not to push him away.

She didn't.

At least… not until he'd finished.

In the end, it was completely worth it.

Even when Ange kicked him in the shin, then slammed the car door into his stomach.

Her face had been red the whooole time~

Hihihi~

For Amakusa, as he staggered about by the car with his arms round his poor, abused stomach… this really was a wonderful start to the new year~

* * *

><p><strong>an: **And that… is the end of the New Years' fic… :3 Oh, and I got it done only like 7 days late XD Sorry about that ;A; It got longer than I thought it would, and then started to involve more characters, and gghhsksksk I hope you like it anyway ^_^;;  
>And I hope you like it too, Fan of Games, given it's based on your prompt kinda-sorta.<p>

I hope everybody is having a happy new year thus far ^_^  
>Next, I'll start work on some of those crack pairing suggestions, and some other stuff… enjoy :3<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	190. Doujinshi

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #190: Doujinshi

* * *

><p>Quite unusually, the Golden Land was devoid of the scent of tea. Instead, the air was filled with the aroma of hot cocoa.<p>

Dlanor A. Knox was only a kid, after all, so she didn't like tea very much; not even tea prepared by Ronove. It was too bitter for her. She only drank the tea Virgilia served her out of good manners; it would have been boorish to refuse. And you couldn't have marshmallows in tea, either- not like with hot cocoa. Dlanor liked marshmallows- especially the cute, heart-shaped ones.

Too bad Gertrude said she couldn't have too much sweet food; it would only rot her teeth.

Humph. Gertrude was really sweet, but she acted like such an old woman sometimes.

By contrast, Beato was a lot more fun. She looked as one would expect a grand witch too, but that was a façade. In reality, she was a rather immature girl who liked playing pranks on people, just to see how they reacted.

Dlanor liked spending time with relaxed, informal people like Beato. Gertrude would surely have scolded Dlanor for slurping whilst she drank, or getting a hot chocolate mustache on her upper lip, but Beato didn't mind.

At that moment, the witch and the witch hunter were engaged in pleasant discussion- or, to be more precise, Beatrice was cackling about something or other (Dlanor didn't quite know what), whilst Dlanor watched her, blinking like a baby bird.

"Is that TRUE?"

"Yes, of course!~ Would I lie to yooou?~ Kyahahaha!"

"Well… I suppose it would be very rude of me to call the host of this tea party a LIAR. I trust you, Lady Beatrice. And I think you are a very admirable WOMAN."

"Ohh~ And how soooo~?"

"I think it is very noble that you would support Mr. Battler and Mr. Ronove like that- especially as Battler was meant to be your HUSBAND. Yet, you do not seem too upset, and you are cheerfully doing your best to make matters easy for THEM. I respect you for THAT."

"Kekeke, weeeeell, I'm just an incredibly big-hearted person, you seeeee?" said Beato. "Anyway, it's no big loss. Battler isn't particularly good in the bedroom anyway! He'd get all embarrassed and red-faced like an innocent blushing schoolgiiiiirl, and then when I suggested we do some things- and they were really taaaame and vanillaaaa things- he'd stutter and stammer and then start to cry 'it's useless, it's all useless!' Aaah, he really was! So I'm not missing anything! I don't have enough patience to teach a blushing virgin like that, you know? I think Ronove would handle it more gently, kyahahahaha!~"

Dlanor looked at Beato in innocent confusion; still blinking in a very innocent, naïve manner that kind of made Beato want to pinch her cheeks…

Or tease her even more.

Maybe she could do both?

"…I am sorry, Lady Beatrice, but I do not UNDERSTAND."

"Ahaha, well, that's fine~" Beatrice smiled nostalgically, and cupped her chin with her hands. "Even I was cute and innocent about the ways of love like you once. I think you'd be far happier not knowing~"

"I think I would be happier TOO. I do not like romance STORIES. They do not interest ME. But, regardless, I am still supportive of the relationship between Mr. Battler and Mr. Ronove. I hope they are happy TOGETHER."

Beatrice began to cackle again- though Dlanor wasn't entirely sure why. Beatrice laughed a lot, and she said a lot of strange things, but most of it went right over Dlanor's head. That made being with Beato more interesting, though- if a little confusing.

The hot chocolate was still nice, though.

Dlanor really couldn't hold any grudges against a person like Ronove if he made such nice food for a fussy eater like her without complaint. Virgilia and Gertrude were always trying to make her eat three meals a day, with vegetables and- worse of all- _mackerel_; but Dlanor didn't like that kind of food. If it wasn't delicious, why should she eat it?

As such, Dlanor really liked Beato's butler- so she truly wished him happiness with Battler.

It was as Dlanor was pondering this, swinging her legs back and forth and sipping her hot chocolate, that Virgilia appeared in a burst of golden butterflies.

"Hello, Miss Virgilia. It's nice to see YOU," said Dlanor politely, with a small (and very rare) smile. Even if Virgilia made her eat mackerel, Dlanor still liked her a lot. Virgilia was one of her best friends.

"It's nice to see you, too; both of you girls," said Virgilia, returning the smile. "Oh, and Dlanor? You have some hot chocolate on your upper lip… Here."

And, like a doting mother, Virgilia took a napkin out of midair and began to wipe Dlanor's face clean.

"Thank YOU."

"No problem, hehe~ So…" Virgilia looked between Dlanor (whose face was a little red from Virgilia's scrubbing) and Beato (who was trying- and failing- to smile innocently) and attempted to adopt a casual tone of voice. "Have you been talking about anything interesting?"

"Yes," said Dlanor, with a small, robotic nod. "Lady Beatrice was telling me all about Mister Battler and Mister Ronove. I didn't understand a lot of the things she was talking about, because they sounded very mature and I am only a kid, but I have no problem with their RELATIONSHIP. I do not judge people on trivial matters like THAT."

"E-eh? What are you talking about…?" Virgilia stared at Dlanor. "W-what's this about Battler and Ronove…? B-beato… What, exactly, have you been telling Dlanor?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing~ Love is a beautiful thing regardless of who it's between, isn't it, Teacher? A forbidden romance between a human and a demon is even more exciting, right? Doesn't that just make your heart pound faster in your chest? Don't you thiiiink? Gyahahahaha!"

Virgilia paused, as she put together all the puzzle pieces in her mind.

"Love… two men… Battler and Ronove… _m-m-mature content_… …?"

And then, it clicked.

Virgilia's face turned bright red- and, frantically, she took hold of Beato's shoulders.

"B-Beato? W-what on earth were you telling Dlanor? T-that's not a fitting subject for her- a-and anyway, i-it's not even _true_! S-something like that never happened! Don't tell Dlanor lies about Battler and Ronove! She's a very pure and innocent girl, and she takes things like this very seriously!"

Said pure and innocent girl was eating a cookie; nibbling it like a squirrel, and paying absolutely no attention to Virgilia and Beatrice's conversation. It sounded like a private matter, and she didn't want to intrude.

"Uguuuu… Buuuut Teacher, a whole bunch of doujinshi I picked up at Comiket say otherwise! Battler and Ronove's relationship can't be a lie when there's so much pictorial evidence!"

"E-evidence?"

"Yeah! Do you wanna see my doujinshi, do you? They're kind of incredible; I showed 'em to Battler and he was all 'aaa, you perverted wiiiitch, where the hell did you pick those up? Aaah, I'm never going to be able to look Ronove in the eye ever again! Useless, it's all useless!' Hehehe~ I think they kind of over-generous when it came to drawing Battler's- mpppphhhh!"

But fortunately, for Dlanor's aforementioned innocence, Beato never got to finish that sentence. Mainly because Virgilia had slapped a hand against her mouth.

Virgilia didn't approve of this nonsense, of course. She'd have to talk to Beato very sternly later on.

…Ahaha… ha…

After she'd taken a look at some of Beato's doujinshi first, of course…


	191. Climactic degradation

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #191: Climactic degradation

* * *

><p>"Urgh. What in the <em>worlds <em>happened in here?"

No response- save a small and rather pathetic 'mmfph' sound. It was the noise of somebody half-asleep who was only just waking up, with their face pressed against a flat, hard surface.

Lambdadelta sighed, and firmly placed her hands on her hips (it was her preferred stance… when she wasn't striking cute poses, of course).

"Geez. You've _really _let yourself go, Aguauau."

Featherine's office was a complete mess. Featherine had never been a very tidy person, which might have been why she tried to seek out mikos who were good at housekeeping as well as reading. Bern was a stickler for cleanliness and sometimes starting _hissing _if Lambdadelta left socks or ribbons or bits of candy lying about their bedroom floor.

But Featherine's office, right now, was far, far worse than any mess Lambdadelta could have made.

Books were strewn about the room; some opened up on the floor like giant paper butterflies with creased spines, others with their pages torn out and scattered everywhere. The antique furniture was piled high with _stuff_- yet more books, and sticky plates covered in bits of food, and clothes. All available surfaces were thick with dust. The bowl on the floor filled with cat food for Featherine's pet had been overturned, and pieces of glutinous, moldy meat werere ground into the carpet. Meanwhile, the milk in the other food bowl had been left there so long it had turned solid.

Lambdadelta was sure, judging by the state of that pet food, that Featherine's cat _probably _wouldn't be feeling 100% fine. Or 10%. Or even 1%. Chances were, if it hadn't run away to find a nice, kind owner, it was dead.

Lambda wrinkled up her nose.

Well, if there was a dead cat hiding somewhere, it sure would explain the smell…

And the writhing mess of maggots peeking out from underneath the rug.

_Urgh_.

The whole room smelt of death. The disgusting aroma of gone off meat and mold and a whole years' worth of accumulated dust assaulted Lambda's nose. This was no environment for a cute witch like her to be in. Lambda liked nice smells, like lavender bath oils, and Bern's hair after she used that strawberry shampoo, and candy

This was making her feel _sick_.

How did Featherine stand it?

…Well, Featherine was getting so old she probably didn't care anymore. That would've been why she was lying, face-down, on a kotatsu in the corner of the room- hair messy, and skin eerily pale.

There was a half-peeled orange sitting by Featherine's hand (you couldn't get out the kotatsu without eating oranges, after all), but… that orange certainly didn't add to the non-existent 'homey' atmosphere of the place. Lambdadelta didn't even want to _try _and guess at how long it had been left there, but, if she had to- she'd say, judging by the fact it no longer deserved to be called an 'orange', but a 'blue', then… maybe it had been there eight months.

Rotting, slowly.

Just like Featherine.

"Oh, this really is too much. No wonder anybody comes and visits you anymore," said Lambdadelta, picking up her skirts in her hands and tentatively fairy-stepping her way across the sea of filth. "Well, there's this mess, and the fact you're a horrible person. I think they go hand to hand to make you totally, completely, certainly unlikable! Featherine has no fri~ends, oh ho ho!~"

"Mmgh?"

Featherine made a small noise of confusion, and slowly lifted (make that 'peeled') her head from the kotatsu.

Strands of hair were stuck across Featherine's face. Her skin was too pale, with a slight greenist tint, and her eyes were rimmed with red like raw meat. She looked way too skinny; her long, elegant dress (now stained with dirt and covered in dust) too big around her middle, and round her chest.

Huh. So your boobs really _did_ get smaller if you didn't eat for a year?

Lambdadelta didn't know that.

Did that mean the reverse was true? If she ate lots and lots of cupcakes, would her's get bigger?

She could only dream.

"Agauau, this," Lambdadelta gestured to her surroundings, "is _awful_. And you look awful, too. Aren't you meant to be the super-cruel most powerful witch who makes everybody miserable? You should be sat in your rocking chair cackling to yourself, not half-dead, lying under a _kotatsu_. I'm very, very disappointed! This is no way to greet a guest!"

"Aah… Lady Lambdadelta… It's nice to see you," said the emaciated thing that could have been Featherine. It gave a small smile- and then began to laugh. "Aaah, this_ is _a wonderful surprise. I've been so _bored _lately."

"Hence the fact you decided to turn your whole office into a second grader's science project on the growth of mold?"

"Well, something like that, haha~ You know, being a thousand year old witch really _does _get tiresome from time to time, though. It's nice for an old woman like me to have a guest~ You're the only one who still comes to see me."

Lambdadelta rolled her eyes. "Duh. That's because everybody _hates _you, but they're _terrified _of you, so they don't want to pay you a casual visit. I'm only here 'cause I hate you _more _than everyone else, and I'm too awesome to be afraid, and I'm actively trying to do my lovely Bern a favor and _kill you with my bare hands_. That's why I'm here."

"Oh? You're trying to kill me again?"

"Yep."

"Then I take it you have no time for a quick cup of tea, or some cake? An old woman like me does get so lonely, you know, ahahaha~"

"Well…"

"If you refuse, I could always kill you. I've been lying here, alone, for approximately six hundred and seventy seven Earth days. It gave me plenty of time to think about various 'interesting' execution methods I could use on people who disobey me."

Lambdadelta raised a brow. "You know, you really have to stop threatening people when they don't do what you want."

"Old habits die hard, ehehe."

"I see." Lambdadelta tapped her fingers against her arm, and pondered. Finally, begrudgingly… she said, "But, if you're gonna get all _needy _about it… I guess, I don't want to see a so-called 'great witch' like you waste away like this, just because you're _bored_… it'd be _so _depressing. Yeah, that's no good- it's no good at all. **I **want to be the one who kills you- I'm not going to let you kill yourself! I swear on it, with certainty, that I will not let you commit suicide through sheer laziness!"

And with that, Lambdadelta stabbed a finger at Featherine, her narrowed eyes blazing with determination. Lambda always liked a challenge, after all- and now she was starting to get excited.

"Right! Here's how this is going to work. **I **am going to make us some tea, and then we're going have a nice chat! Then, we're going to clean up this room until I could eat my dinner off the floor, alright? Not that I'd want to, given all the things that have been crawling about on _your _floor… Heh, and then maybe we could try and find your dead cat, and make her a little… less dead… and get rid of all those maggots." Lambda winced. "And the rancid milk." She pulled a face. "And the mice." She shuddered. "And that awful, hideous, moldy orange **thing** that keeps _staring at me_…"

Featherine laughed again; seeming quite like her usual self, despite her haggard appearance. It was quite typical for Featherine to tire of life and fall into black moods like that- the longest of which had lasted for two centuries.

She was used to it by now.

"Thank you so much, Lady Lambdadelta. I'm so grateful~ Do you, by any chance, want to become my new miko?"

Lambdadelta tore off her black gloves, turned them into kompeito candies, and strung them in her hair. Then, wincing, she reached forwards, and gingerly picked up the orange from the table. It fell apart in her hands; a mush of green and blue slime.

She gagged.

"No way. I'm not being your miko," Lambda muttered. "Unlike you, I like my life, and I'm _not _suicidal. And I don't want to clean up after you for a living, you old hag."

"Oh? Is that so? How sad, how sad. Then… would you consider marrying me instead? I think you'd make a wonderful wife~"

Lambdadelta snorted. "Yeah, until you get _bored_, and send me to the cruellest kakera on a _whim_. Don't think I don't know why you worked your way through so many mikos. _Everybody_ knows."

"Ahaha, yes~ I must admit, it would be so wonderful to see you crawling around on a bed of broken glass without any arms or legs, both your eyes gouged out, using only your tongue to drag yourself along~ Ahahahaha!~"

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun imagining that, you old grandma- but without any arms, I wouldn't be able to go and make you any tea."

And with that, Lambdadelta turned her head and- moldy orange in one hand- she walked off to the kitchen.

Featherine chuckled to herself as she watched Lambdadelta leave.

That witch, despite what she said… really was a nice girl. Lambda was just too soft-hearted, wasn't she? She didn't like seeing people miserable; even if that person was a horrible witch who had tortured her 'beloved Bern' so much.

Maybe Lambda was a little _too _nice.

It would be_ so_ much fun trying to break her~

Hehe~ Well, maybe aiming for that goal would give Featherine something to live for.

For the next ten or twenty years, or so.


	192. Carrots

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #192: Carrots

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think?"<p>

There was a long pause.

Will stared at the array of food spread out before him. Untrustingly prodded a piece of broccoli with the tip of his chopstick. Judging by the look on his face, you'd have thought he'd been confronted with a plate full of deep-fried locusts as opposed to a healthy meal of rice, soup, and a lot of delicious side-dishes with prettily presented vegetables. Lion had even taken care to carve the carrots into the delicate little flowers.

But the carrot flowers made no difference.

Will continued to stare and stare and _stare_ unappreciatively at the food, and never once did he try to eat any of it. He just kept prodding it with his chopsticks.

_Prod, prod, prod._

Why did Will look so suspicious? That was a little hurtful, actually- especially when Lion had tried so hard to create something nice.

What, did Will think it was poisoned or something?

Well… Lion _might _seriously try to poison Will one day, given how incredibly irritating he could be. If Lion didn't push that lazy ex-detective around, Will would be only too happy to spend the rest of his life sat on the couch, watching daytime TV with Diana on his lap, until he went moldy like an old potato and started to sprout tubers.

"I know this meal is a little different from the packaged food you usually eat, but I promise you, there's nothing wrong with it," said Lion firmly, planting their hands on their hips.

There was a small pause. Then, Will said, a little begrudgingly, "…I _like _packaged food."

Lion had to suppress the urge to bang their head against a wall.

Was Will that rude on _purpose_, or did it just come naturally?

Being that insensitive was almost an art form.

"I know you like packaged food, but it's hardly healthy. I slaved away in the kitchen- which, by the way, is obviously only for show given you _never _use it-"

"I put things in the microwave."

"You never use it _properly_," Lion countered- to which Will had no response. "Anyway. I slaved to make this nutritious meal, and do you know why?" But Lion didn't wait for Will to respond. "It's because I'm seriously concerned about your health, _Willard_. It's all well and good that you buy Diana the most expensive fish cutlets, but _you _need to eat properly as well. The least you could do is look a _little _enthusiastic."

Voice deadpan, Will replied, "Hooray?"

The golden-haired successor scowled.

Okay, now Lion was _positive _Will was doing this on purpose.

"Fine, _don't _be enthusiastic then, if that's too much of a bother. But you should at _least_ say 'thank you'. That's standard etiquette. Although, it's obvious standard etiquette has quite passed you by…" Lion sighed, pressing a hand to their temple. "I should have expected this. It was silly to think you'd appreciate my hard work, anyway… … Or comment on the carrots."

Lion sniffed, and turned their head to one side- trying to hide the fact Will's brusque manner had damaged their feelings somewhat. Even though Will annoyed Lion to no end, Lion only got so annoyed because of how much they cared...

Stupid Will…

By this point, Will's questioning gaze was no longer directed towards the display of wholesome food spread out before him. Instead, he was looking directly at Lion… or the back of Lion's head, anyway.

Was Lion really that upset…?

Will didn't know. He'd never had anybody fuss over him like this, so he felt a little awkward, and he didn't really know what to say. But Will hadn't wanted to upset Lion.

Will never wanted to upset Lion.

It was just incredibly easy to annoy the young aristocrat…

(Or, to be more precise, it wasn't _that _easy, as Lion had a lot of patience, but Will was exceedingly good at depleting those stores of patience in as little time as possible; and he hardly even realized he was doing it.)

"Hey, um, Lion…"

Will wasn't entirely sure what to say to diffuse the heavy tension that had seeped through the room- and he got the distinct feeling anything he did say would only make it worse. Will wasn't cut out for being looked after, or given home-made meals, or _manners_; it was all so confusing, and what was wrong with ramen or warming stuff up in a microwave?

Lion was so uptight about things that didn't really matter.

Spending time with Diana was a lot easier. Diana didn't expect Will to make conversation all the time, or say 'please' and 'thank you', and Diana didn't pinch Will's behind when he screwed up (Diana only scratched him across the face instead… Once a cut Diana gave him got infected, and Will got really, really ill, but that was a one-off), and Diana didn't make Will feel horribly guilty because he always messed up.

Spending time with Lion was _confusing._

But, Will still didn't want Lion to leave.

Even if they were both very good at making each other miserable.

"Lion… um… tch."

Will sighed, and ran a hand through his hair; trying to school his thoughts so his words stopped stumbling over his tongue. It was no easy task. Hunting witches was a lot easier than remembering his manners. Will had never really needed to talk to witches when he was sentencing them, after all.

"Well, um… Thank you for making me a meal, I guess. It's the first time anybody has done something like this for me, so I don't really know how to react." But I am happy. I'm just bad at… expressing it… …?"

"I can tell."

"Yeah, let's go with that. Just stop sulking. It's so un-cute…"

"…You know, you didn't have to say that last bit. The apology would have sounded more sincere without it."

Lion glared, and turned about- hands on hips once more (it seemed to be Lion's preferred stance when dealing with Will). However, Lion's glare soon softened… and a small smile spread across the successor's face.

"Well, I guess being rude is just part of your 'charm'. It would be silly to expect you to act otherwise, haha…"

Lion looked so cute, smiling like that, that Will kind of wanted to pat Lion on the head. That was how Will displayed affection to all living creatures. He patted them, just like cats. He even did the same to inanimate objects from time to time, like his stripy pajamas, or his TV.

…Sometimes, Will thought being a pet owner for so long might have skewed his mannerisms beyond what could be called 'normal'. But, he didn't really care.

"Um, but… thank you," said Lion slowly, hesitantly- hopefully. "You… You really mean it? You really appreciate the food I made you?"

Will nodded.

"Oh… Then, I'm very flattered. I hope you enjoy it! Perhaps I'm not the best cook, but I think it should taste a lot nicer than the stuff you usually eat!"

By this point, Lion was almost shining with happiness.

…So of course, Will had to go and spoil it.

He had to spoil it, because he was insensitive and couldn't read the atmosphere.

"… …But I don't like carrots."

The smile froze on Lion's face.

In roughly 0.34 seconds, Willard's behind was paying the price for that callous, unnecessary remark.

Will winced. "I thought you _wanted _me to comment on the carrots?"

"Then you should have been a little more _tactful_!"

And with that, Lion stormed off angrily, leaving Will to rub his behind, sigh, and wonder where, exactly, he had gone wrong.


	193. And they all lived happily ever after

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #193: And they lived happily ever after

* * *

><p>The atmosphere in young Battler's bedroom was very warm and very homey, just like something from a sickening TV soap opera.<p>

_Ha._

Rudolf snorted.

He'd never thought, not in a million years, that he'd ever find himself in a 'cute' situation like this. Since he was about thirteen, his ultimate dream- beyond irritating Krauss and Eva- had been to one day own a harem of pretty girls in skimpy clothes; maybe a harem of sisters (that would be way more kinky), if he could ever find seven attractive, big-boobed sisters all willing to worship him. Rudolf had it all planned out. He'd get those girls, and then he'd make them lie at his feet, feed him peeled grapes, massage his shoulders and stare up at him adoringly from dusk until dawn.

…Somehow, that didn't quite work out as he'd imagined it.

Instead of a harem of cute girls, Rudolf had a wife and a son.

But, call him sappy and sentimental… he wouldn't have traded it for the world.

Not now.

Maybe he'd gotten a little older- and far more practical.

Living with Asumu, with her strange fear of moving vehicles and twisted sense of humor, was difficult enough. Rudolf wouldn't have been able to cope with six other girls like her. You had to have all good things in moderation. For example, everyone liked cake- but nobody wanted to be crushed by a mountain of it, right?

Maybe it was something like that.

Then again, maybe not.

Rudolf didn't really know. He was pretty tired.

Rudolf was seated in the chair by Battler's bed, looking at his son proudly. In all truth, Battler was pretty skinny for a four year old, but to Rudolf, he was _Ushiromiya Battler_, and he was going to grow up to be _incredible_!

Asumu was curled up in bed beside Battler, long red hair fanning out across Battler's pillow. A soft, sleepy smile was on her lips, and her eyes were half-lidded; weighted down with lack of sleep. It looked as though she was in danger of passing out then and there.

The only one who wasn't exhausted was Battler himself. The young boy was sat upright in bed, eyes wide, as he shook Asumu's shoulders.

"Mom, mom, mooom~" he wined, "What happens next? I need to know what happens next in the story!"

Through her yawns, Asumu muttered tiredly, "W-wha… W-what story…?"

Battler pouted, folding his arms with a look of long-suffering on his face. "In _Hansel and Gretel_, obviously! Tell me what happened next!"

"U-um, next, huh…? Aheh…" Asumu giggled tiredly. "Battler, Mama's tiiireddd. Can I tell you the story tomorrow?"

"No! I wanna hear it right now!"

"Ahaha~ He's such a brat, huh?" Rudolf chuckled.

He would've accompanied that by ruffling Battler's hair, or flicking him on the nose, but Rudolf was too warm and comfy on that chair to move. It had been a difficult day at work.

"Yes, he can be demanding at times… But, then, he's exactly like you, dear, ufufufu~" Asumu cackled.

It didn't matter how pretty Asumu was- she had a very creepy laugh. It always made a chill run up Rudolf's spine.

"S-stop talking to each other! Tell me the story! I won't be able to sleep unless you tell me the end!" said Battler crossly, jabbing Asumu sharply in the side. "Do Hansel and Gretel escape from the wicked witch? Do they see their parents again? I wanna know!"

"The witch? Witch, huh…? Well, um…"

Asumu was just too tired to tell the rest of the story- and, by the sound of soft snoring, it looked like Rudolf had already fallen asleep. Without Rudolf to do the funny voices of the wolf and woodcutter the story wouldn't be much fun to listen to anyway…

Rudolf used to tell fairy stories to Rosa when they were younger, so he was an expert storyteller. His voice was so expressive and enchanting even Asumu felt enthralled by it.

But, knowing Battler, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he'd heard the conclusion of the tale.

Stubborn kid.

What to do, what to do…?

And it was then, as Asumu thought through her alternatives- albeit very slowly, given she felt completely exhausted- that a brilliant idea hit her.

…On second thoughts, maybe it wasn't _that _brilliant, not really, given it had been conceived in a state of semi-consciousness, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

She'd be able to finish the story, and Battler would be happy.

Then they could all go to sleep~

Lovely, nice, warm, relaxing sleep...

"Ehehe, well… In the end, um…" _Yawn_. "T-the witch…"

"Yes? What did the witch do, mom?"

"T-the witch…"

_Yawn_.

"T-the witch killed and ate the kids! And that's the end!"

Battler paused.

Then, he _stared._

"W-what? N-no way… T-the witch can't win, fairy stories don't work that way! They don't work like that, they don't!"

"This one does. Gretel died. Hansel died. And the witch ate them at her banquet, and turned them into delicious tongue salad and dessert with apples, and she lived happily forever and ever... or something like that? The end. Oh, have I said that already?" Giggle, giggle. _Yawn_. "S-so… That's it. I told you the story. Now go to sleep, okay, honey?"

And with that hasty conclusion, Asumu rolled over- smiling cheerfully at how _ingenious _she was- and did just as she had told Battler to do.

She fell fast asleep.

But it wasn't so easy for Battler.

The wind whistled outside his window. A branch knocked against the side of the house. He squeaked, shivering, and drew the covers around his body like a cloak.

_I-I don't want the witch to eat me, too!_

* * *

><p>"Oh, Battler, what's wrong?" asked Asumu, stretching, as she looked at her son. "You have bags under your eyes. Did you have a bad dream?"<p>

Battler shook his head, still trembling from tip to toe.

He didn't have a bad dream.

He couldn't have done.

He hadn't had any sleep at all.


	194. Fairytale, a fake story

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #194: Fairytale, a fake story

* * *

><p>"There you go, Angey," said Battler brightly, tucking his little sister up in her nice, warm bed. "No monsters will be able to get you when you're all safe in here, huh?"<p>

Ange giggled softly. "I don't believe in monsters, big brother. M'not stupid."

"Huh? You don't?" Battler pouted. "And I wanted to act like a cool, awesome hero! I even practised my lines! I was gonna say something like 'have no fear, little lady- I'll protect you from any evil creatures that might be lurking around!' Aah, but it's useless- it's all useless! You're way too smart for me, Angey. I guess a clever kid like you doesn't _need _a hero."

"Well… Um… I could _pretend_ to be scared, if you want. Would that make you happy, big bro?"

"You'd do that?" Battler's eyes lit up. "Yeah!~ Thanks, Ange. Now I can tell everybody at school how I was so brave and saved my little sister from the evil witches and demons in the closet!"

Ange raised a brow. "Do your friends believe in that stuff? Aren't they, like, teenagers? That's stupid."

"Ihihi, how cruel! Don't call my friends stupid."

"If they believe in witches they are. Humph." Ange stuck her nose up in the air proudly- though, given she was lying down in bed, the grandiose effect was spoilt somewhat. "I'm far smarter than them."

"Well, maybe, ihihi… My friends aren't the brightest bunch. But it's rude to say things like that about people, okay?"

Ange frowned… but, slowly, she nodded her head in assent. "Mm, well… Okay…"

"Good. Anyway." He smiled, ruffling Ange's hair. "Night night, lil' sis. Sleep tight."

"W-wait… You're… not going, are you…?"

"Um, yeah. I have homework to do. And you need to get your beauty sleep, so you grow up into a really sexy lady, ihihi~" Battler grinned. "Don't tell me you really _are_ afraid of monsters, Ange…?"

"No. It's not that, it's just… I-I'm just afraid that…" Ange sighed, her eyes downcast. "That you won't come back…"

"Ange…?"

"You didn't use to live with mom and dad and me, you… you used to leave me all alone, a-and…" Ange sniffed, hiccoughing slightly. "D-don't leave me all alone, big bro. I-I… I love you…"

Battler froze. It felt like an invisible hand had wrapped icy fingers round his heart.

Was Ange… really that scared?

Did she really think he wouldn't come back?

Well, he _had _been a bit of a crappy big brother… It was the least he could do to try and make up for it now.

Battler patted Ange gently on the forehead, offering her a small smile. "Oh, Ange. Don't be _silly_. I love you too- and I won't ever leave. Not ever."

"Y-you promise?"

"I promise. I still have homework to do, but if you want, I'll, um… stay here… until you go to sleep. If you want?"

"W-would you?"

"Yeah. I'll even read you a fairytale. How about that?"

Ange nodded. "Okay… I-I like that…" She smiled softly. "I-I'd like that a lot."

* * *

><p>Battler tried to stifle a yawn as he read through the remaining pages of <em>Hansel and Gretel<em>. It looked like he wouldn't be able to get his homework done now, given he'd pretty much exhausted himself reading at least five other stories to Ange- but, gah, whatever. His little sister was more important than stupid school.

He could always retake his tests if he did badly. This big brother thing, however, was kind of a one-shot deal. Battler knew first-hand just how tenuous human relationships were (look at his own relationship with that old bastard), and Battler really didn't want to screw this up.

Ange deserved a better big brother than the absent one she'd had for the past four years, and Battler would be damned if he prioritized a silly thing like English verbs over his sister.

Those English verbs wouldn't seem so silly tomorrow, of course, given learning them was a big part of his future- but Battler would cross that bridge when he got to it.

Seeing Ange smile was the most precious thing of all.

He just had a few more pages left to read, and Ange was beginning to look a little drowsy round the edges, too. From Battler remembered, the rest of the story was pretty short. Battler had strong memories of his mom reading it to him a few years ago- and the ending had been pretty _grim _for a fairytale… He'd been too scared to try and read himself afterwards, so this was the first time in almost ten years he'd looked at that story.

He could now, only vaguely, remember that it had given him nightmares, though…

Huh. Maybe he should change the ending when he got to it- but, then again, Ange was a brave kid. She might have had a sickly constitution, but talk of witches and demons didn't faze her.

But, as Battler read on, his brows raised in surprise.

He… didn't remember the story ending like that…

D-didn't his mom say the witch had eaten the children…?

She… she _didn't_…?

Battler had been terrified of going to sleep for **two months** over something that never even happened in the story?

T-the children were just fine! They _escaped_!

N-no way!

In Jessica's inelegant words, no frickin' way!

"Huh? Big brother?" said Ange sleepily, tugging at Battler's arm. "Big brother, what's wrong?"

There was a small pause.

And then…

"I-I can't believe it! She **lied **to me. I'm... _hurt_!"


	195. George & Bunny

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #195: George & Bunny

* * *

><p>"And who are these, Maria?"<p>

"Uu? These? They're the rabbits of the forest band!"

Maria smiled brightly and held her hands out for George to inspect. Resting on her palms were four delicate little ceramic figures; white rabbits with pink noses and fluffy tails, all playing musical instruments.

They really were cute, thought George with a small smile. It was so touching, how Rosa knew exactly what kinds of presents her daughter would love.

"Ah, this takes me back," said George, with a small laugh. "I used to have toys like this when I was a kid, too. Not rabbits- but I had a whole army of tin soldiers I kept in an old shoebox. I used to play around them with my dad."

"With Uncle Hideyoshi?"

"Mm, yeah. Dad really likes history and famous battles, so he'd try to re-enact them out with me… Ahahaha~ Now I think about it, maybe my dad had more fun playing with those toy soldiers than I did."

Maria giggled.

"Well, the rabbits of the forest are even better than soldiers, kihihi~ They have really sen… sen… _sen_sitive ears, so they can hear really well, and when they see an enemy they can shoot them with their magic, uu, uu!"

"Magic rabbits? That sounds a little scary. Do you think my tin soldiers would stand a chance against them?"

"Nooo way! My rabbits would use their golden magic, and everything would go _boom_, and then your soldiers would be _destroyed_! Kihihihi! The yellow rabbit lost her eye in a battle, you know? She's a war veteran!"

"My, that really _is _frightening. I'll have to make sure I don't offend the rabbit band, then, won't I?"

"Yes," said Maria seriously, nodding her head. "Don't offend them."

"I'll try not to. Ah… Maybe I should try and get on their good side by making their acquaintances?" suggested George, smiling. "What are their names?"

"Uuu… Yellow rabbit is 00. Blue is 410. Red, 45. Purple, 556."

"They're named after… numbers?" asked George, confusion evident on his face. "But all your other friends had such nice names… Couldn't think of anything? Are the numbers place-holders? I could help you think of some nice names, if you like?"

"Nooo, silly," said Maria, her face deadpanning slightly. "The numbers _are_ their names. They're good names. Beatrice helped me choose them! She said they were magically powerful numbers, kihihi! But only witches know about that- and only witches can play with the rabbit band _properly_! Real witches like me and Beato have tea parties in the forest with the rabbit band and listen to their music, and devils come and serve us delicious cakes! Humans can't see that if they don't have the right wavelength- humans can't join in our fun. It's only for witches, kihihihi!"

"Aaah, I see. Well, that's a shame."

George sighed- though he was still smiling. Maria had such an overactive imagination and that, coupled with her childish energy, made her a very sweet child; even when she started practising her 'witch laugh'. It was true Rosa had some worries over Maria's dual personality- but George thought Maria's nature was quite understandable, given she was still a child. She just wanted to feel superior to the adults in some ways, and that was why she tried to assume the identity of a witch. It was nothing more than the harmless dream of a young girl. George could never trample on a child's hopes like that.

George used to play imaginary games with his toys when he was a child, too. Maybe all children did. Talking to Maria reminded George of those days, and it made him feel a little less like the adult had to be. It was relaxing.

"I'm not a witch," said George, trying to sound sad. "Does that mean I can't play with the rabbit band?"

"Uu…" Maria frowned, seemingly deep in thought- before she finally decided to take pity on her poor cousin. "Well, you can try… but it won't be as much fun if you can't _see_."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to see alright. Even without magic, I can tell that these rabbits are your precious friends, aren't they? I can see that. So I wouldn't treat them badly."

Maria blinked up at George hopefully; repeating her little 'uu, uu' chant. "George will really play with Maria and the rabbits? Will really play?"

George smiled warmly and patted Maria on the head. "Yes. Of course I'll really play with you and the rabbits. That sounds like fun."

Maria's little eyes lit up with excitement, and she smiled brightly- almost bouncing up and down.

"Yay! Maria is happy! The rabbit band is happy, too! Even if you can't see, the rabbits are happy, uu, uu! I bet 556 is the happiest! She likes playing with nice, polite people! 410 is kind of bully, so she'd tease you, and 45 is really shy, and 00 doesn't talk very much, so I think you'd like 556 the most too, uu, uu!"

"Is that right? Then I should definitely play with 556 the most," said George, taking the purple-themed ceramic rabbit Maria held towards him.

Maria giggled. "Kihihi~ Yeah, I bet 556 is really happy! Do you know, do you know, George?"

"What, Ma~ria?~"

"Come closer! It's a secret!"

"What?" asked George, bending down so he was at eye level with Maria. "What's the secret?~ I promise I won't tell."

Maria looked about the empty living room of the main mansion a few times. The adults were outside in the rose garden, and Jessica was playing with Ange and Shannon on the beach. Maria and George were the only ones there.

Good. Now nobody would have to hear this embarrassing secret!

But, just to be sure… Maria slipped the three remaining ceramic bunnies back into her pink bag, thus turning the three Chiesters back into vessels. Maria knew how sisters could be. The Seven Stakes of Purgatory were always teasing each other, after all, and Maria didn't want 556 to be teased either. The other sisters absolutely couldn't hear this personal secret; it was only for George. 556 had a really shy and cute side, and 410 would tease her if she knew!

Then, Maria leant forwards, her lips inches away from George's ear, and whispered…

"556 thinks you're really nice and kind to her, uu, uu. Her mean big sister bullies her sometimes for being such a quiet kid, so 556 feels really sad sometimes... but she's glad she has a kind person like you to talk to! In fact, 556 really, really likes you! I think she even has a crush on you, uu, uu!"

* * *

><p>Chiester 556's face turned bright red at this, and her fluffy ears stood up on end as though she'd been electrocuted.<p>

"A-ah! U-um, Lady Maria… D-don't tell George that! Y-you can't tell him that! P-please, it's really embarrassing- a-a lady's personal secrets should be kept to herself, a-and… u-um… o-oh no!" 556 squeaked hopelessly. Bowing her head to George, she said nervously, "I-I'm sorry for burdening you with such a secret, G-george, I-I'm sorry…! I'm really sorry!"

Maria just giggled to herself.

Poor George, meanwhile, who couldn't see or hear the attractive, scantily clad bunny girl cowering before Maria at all… was rather confused.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **based on the crack pairing suggestion by _The Cake is Late_. This was fun to write~ I'll do some of the other crack pairing suggestions soon too.  
>And, to <em>Fan of Games<em>, I'll do your Ange and Asmodeus suggestion, which should be done in like… a week, maybe. And you can send me your other suggestion now, if you want ^_^

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	196. A friend in need

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #196: A friend in need

* * *

><p>"Are you alright, Miss Erika?"<p>

"I'm fine. I don't need a murder doll like you to take pity on me. It's not like you can even _feel _pity, is it? You're not even human. Ha. Haha…"

Furudo Erika laughed coldly at Dlanor, but her heart wasn't truly in it and her head was focused somewhere else. She didn't sound threatening at all.

Instead, she sounded tired.

Almost defeated.

Erika was curled up on her bed; knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped round her legs, puffy skirts pooled round her in a sea of rumpled creases. Her blue hair wasn't tied in their typical twin tails, so it cascaded messily round her shoulders.

The matching cap made from fake flowers and ribbons was no longer secured in her blue hair. It had been thrown roughly aside on the floor- not that Erika minded. That stupid fashion accessory didn't belong to her; it was Jessica's, so Erika didn't care if it was trampled on. Erika had no respect for Jessica; why should she respect her personal possessions? Besides, that cap really was pointless, anyway. It didn't do anything- and the ribbons irritated the young detective, getting tangled in her hair when she walked.

Erika was a very practical girl who had a large dislike of pointless things.

Exchanging pleasantries with Dlanor was, to Erika, another pointless thing. Erika didn't need friends. She wasn't stupid enough to delude herself that she was a likable person. It had always been Erika's dream to become a detective; of course she wasn't a likable person. After all, it was a detective's job to carelessly pry into the hearts of others and pull out their innards- exposing the truth to the world.

Real life detectives could never be popular party guests because human beings- regardless of the age-old maxims 'don't tell lies' and 'honesty is the best policy'- were selfish, petty creatures who only thought of themselves.

If the truth was inconvenient to them, they didn't want to hear it. Humans blinded themselves and lived in fantasy worlds.

Erika hated people like that, and people like that tended to hate her in turn.

So she never tried to make friends.

It was a waste of time.

Erika knew Dlanor disliked her, so why was Dlanor looking at her with such… … _sympathy_?

No.

It was probably pity.

That pity made Erika feel ill.

"I told you, I'm _fine_," she snapped, "and even if I wasn't, a murder doll like you wouldn't be able to comfort me."

But, irritatingly enough… Dlanor didn't move.

Her expression was set with determination- and her little hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Miss Erika… as your partner, it is my duty to care for YOU."

"Oh, really? Isn't that nice?" Erika spoke pleasantly- but the expression on her face was twisted horribly, and her scowl could have chilled the blood. "I don't _need _anybody to take care of me. I don't need any help. Not from you, or from my Master, or by the detective's authority- or even the duct tape seals. I can solve this mystery all by myself."

Dlanor didn't doubt that- but Dlanor wasn't worried about this new game.

Neither, it seemed, was Erika.

"…I am sure you will succeed, Miss Erika," said Dlanor slowly. "I have faith in YOU. You are a very proficient detective, but…"

Erika answered, voice deadpan, as though what she was saying was perfectly natural and normal; "A horrible human being."

Dlanor remained silent; looking at Erika with a little more empathy in her eyes than usual.

Erika snorted. "Ha? What? What's the problem, Dlanor? _**I **_know I'm horrible, and I don't have any problem with it," said Erika.

She was trying to sound forceful- but in actuality, she just felt tired, and jaded, and a little nostalgic, a little melancholic, and she couldn't keep her tone of voice level.

She'd been thinking about this a lot lately.

What would she do when this game was finished?

What about her old life…?

Her home?

Her parents?

All the stupid talk of _stupid_ 'love' from earlier on in this game had made Erika start thinking, and evaluating her character- and she always grew uncomfortable when that happened. Detective novels weren't for analysing softer emotions and feelings of the heart; wasn't that what Van Dine said? Erika had it all memorized. Van Dine's third. _There must be no love interest. The business in hand is to bring a criminal to the bar of justice, not to bring a lovelorn couple to the hymeneal altar._

The detective should not fall in love.

And, as all relationships involved some kind of 'love'… Erika couldn't have any friends, either.

It'd just get in her way.

Erika didn't need other people. She just needed mysteries.

She only wanted to expose the truth.

But… had it always been that way?

Well. There was no point thinking about it. It was this way _now_. Her Master wouldn't Erika act in any other manner than a heartless intellectual rapist. Erika only existed to expose the culprit of the Rokkenjiima mass murders. If her Master hadn't required her for that purpose, she would have let her drown; an incredibly unfitting end for a girl of Erika's caliber.

Her past didn't matter anymore.

And yet, Erika… couldn't stop thinking about it…

She… missed her parents.

And she missed her old life.

And, right now… the fun of this challenge was starting to wear thin- and she wanted to go home.

Though it had been her childhood dream to be a detective, that dream hadn't been born from a cruel desire to tear out the guts from happy stories, _or _expose the painful secrets buried deep within people's hearts. Erika had wanted to be a detective at first because she really liked mystery novels, and maybe she'd had a bit of a silly seven-year-old crush on Sherlock Holmes.

How did she end up so cynical, and so entirely unlikable… stranded on an island in a murder mystery, with no friends or family; not the murderer of this story, but definitely the villain?

She wasn't _just_ a detective.

She wasn't _just_ a piece.

She was still a human.

But as she lay there, listening to the rain pitter patter outside the window, curled up in this bed that wasn't hers' wearing clothes that were Jessica's, playing a role Lady Bernkastel had assigned her to… Erika was beginning to feel less and less like a real person- and more and more like a cheap, two-dimensional monster.

What was happening to her?

She hardly even recognized herself.

Erika sniffed softly- and she was horrified to note that, for the first time in a very, very long time... her cheeks were wet.

She was crying.

H-how disgusting, how despicable, how-

"D-dlanor?"

Erika prided herself on being a very calm person- but she was unable to suppress her surprise. That was why she gave a small, surprised squeak.

Dlanor… was hugging her?

Yeah…

That creepy little murder doll was… actually hugging her.

Erika had never really paid it much heed before- but Dlanor really was small. She was just a kid, after all. But Dlanor was still strong; and her hug was very firm, and… strangely safe.

Dlanor's skin was strangely cold, and maybe she was hugging a little too tightly; but it was far more comforting than anything Erika had received in a long time. Her Master only hurled abuse at her, and tugged at her hair, and sometimes slapped her across the face- just like a fussy child with a doll they didn't like.

And, in turn, Erika had treated the Eiserne Jungfrau girls as dolls, too- especially Cornelia.

But, Dlanor… wasn't treating Erika like that.

She was treating her… … like a friend.

"Miss Erika. I'm sorry if this is forward of ME…" said Dlanor, slightly awkwardly; her voice unsure. "However, when I am upset, Gertrude often hugs me like THIS. It always comforts me… so I thought it might help you as WELL."

"Humph. Hahaha… You mean, you actually have _feelings_?"

"Yes. I feel upset when I stub my toe, or lose my glasses, or Gertrude makes me eat VEGETABLES. But I think your troubles are worse than THAT. And I want to support you, and be your FRIEND… because I think you need ONE."

"I've been _fine _without friends… for ages; just _fine_. I-I don't need any now."

"If that's true, then why haven't pulled AWAY? I don't UNDERSTAND…"

Erika sniffed.

Then, she sighed… and, begrudgingly, rested her head on Dlanor's shoulder.

"There's no real reason. I'm just tired. And you're my… furniture, right? So. Act like a pillow for me. You should be thankful I'm even deigning to rest my head on you at all."

"…Yes, Miss Erika."

There was a small silence; broken only by the rain pouring outside, Erika's light breathing, and the sound of her heart beating softly in her chest.

Dlanor's voice was so quiet Erika could have pretended she didn't hear her if she wanted to. Of course, Erika's ears were near perfect, given she was the detective; but without the detective's authority, there was always a 1% chance she might have misheard something.

If Erika responded to that comment, she would have to get angry, and take offence, and argue back. That was part of her personality, after all. But if she responded… she knew she would ruin this moment.

Erika didn't want to do that.

So she pretended she didn't hear, and she didn't say anything, when Dlanor spoke quietly, "It's FINE. I'm a stubborn child too… so I don't like admitting when I need people EITHER."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So, here's some 'angsty yet slightly fluffy' Erika and Dlanor, as requested by _Nepeta Leijon_. Um, I hope you like it? ^_^; Sorry it got so long XD I think my new vague rule thing is if a oneshot is under 2k I'll put it here XD

Oh, & thank you for keeping me up to speed w/ that bill, _Fan of Games._I didn't know much about it before XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	197. Baby it's cold outside

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #197: Baby it's cold outside

* * *

><p>Most unusually, the weather in the Golden Land on this one particular day was not as pleasant as usual. Instead, it was snowing. Because of a small whim (it had <em>nothing <em>to do with the seven sisters' desire to have a snowball fight), Beato had decided to alter the weather a little. Now, the Golden Land looked less like a fantastical paradise for witches, and rather more like an illustration on the front of a Christmas card.

The golden roses had been painted over with white snow. The ground was layered with at least six inches of white; just like thick icing on a birthday cake. The sky, which was usually a strange and otherworldly purple, was a more mundane powder blue, and snowflakes drifted through the air.

The snow really was quite pretty, mused Beato.

Too bad it had one fatal flaw.

"Gyaah… I-it's so _cold_…"

She was absolutely freezing.

As it turned out, her favorite dress wasn't all that practical in the winter.

Unlike Beato, the Seven Sisters all donned identical coats with matching scarves, mittens and hats; the woolly accessories all knitted by Virgilia. Going quite against their usual 'look', the seven sisters appeared- whilst playing about in the snow, bundled up snug and warm- deceptively child-like, cute and innocent.

Virgilia and Ronove, too, were wearing clothes more suited for the winter. That was not too surprising, given they were rather practical people who would rather be warm than be fashionable.

But, in what had to be the most bizarre plot twist of all… even _Gaap_ had dressed up in sensible clothes. There wasn't a trace of corsetry, oversized ribbons or immodest expanses of skin to her demure outfit at all. She, too, had neglected her usual corkscrew curls. Apparently, the falling snow would make it go frizzy. Instead, her blonde hair curled loosely all about her shoulders, in a manner very similar to Beato's when she took the bobby pins from her hair.

It was strange just how young Gaap looked when she wasn't wearing the 'latest fashions'. Virgilia always had more affection for the portal demon when she was kind enough to dress herself like a normal person. It made talking to her less awkward. Virgilia was never sure where to focus her eyes when Gaap was dressed in her usual attire.

Gaap was playing about in the snow with the rest of the sisters; acting like a young child, instead of a high ranking demon. She'd been pelting the other sisters with snowballs via her magical portals- but now it looked like Mammon and Beelzebub were getting a little annoyed at her constant cheating during their epic snowball war ('s-stop hitting us from behind like that, it's not faaaaair!'). As such, the two stakes were now trying to tackle Gaap to the floor, and shove snow down the front of her sweater.

The only person who wasn't dressed sensibly was Beato. She was stubbornly wearing her same dress, with the same plunging neckline, and the same exposed back.

No wonder she was so cold.

"Maybe you should wear a coat?" Virgilia suggested mildly.

Ronove laughed at this. "Pu ku ku~ Miss Virgilia does have a good point, Milady. Instead of incessantly complaining about the weather- as you have been for the past…" he paused to check the face of his antique pocket watch, "…fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, why don't you take the initiative and do something about it?"

"That's precisely what I've been trying to tell her," said Virgilia, sighing. "Instead of complaining, Beato, just put on your coat."

Beatrice glared sourly at her Teacher and her butler, arms folded.

"No! I don't want to!"

"…Well then, you'll just have to be cold, won't you?" said Virgilia flatly. "Stop whining about it."

Beatrice ignored her. Throwing her arms akimbo in the most dramatic gesture possible, Beato declared, "The great Golden Witch would never bow to the forces of nature! Put on a coat? Ha! I would never be so weak! It's cowardly, it's stupid, it's pathetic! No matter how strong the North Wind blows, the traveller will only become more determined not to put on their cloak!"

"Um… I-I think you've got that story wrong, Beato," said Virgilia. "The traveller in 'The North Wind and the Sun' was wearing his cloak from the beginning, and-"

"Yes!" Beato shouted, cutting Virgilia off entirely. "As a proud witch, I could never suffer the indignity of _putting on a coat_ just because it happens to be a little chilly! Even if it was raining spears from the sky I would never compromise my incredible dress sense by covering my beautiful gown with a _coat_! I'm just too good for that, you seeeee? That's why _**I'm**_ the Endless Witch Beatrice who inherited your name, Teaaaacheeeeer, and you're a lowly Finite Witch who doesn't even have a proper tiiiitle! Gyahahahahaaa!~ Oh, and anyways…" Beato deadpanned slightly. "I'm not wearing that coat you picked out for me, Teacher. You have no taste."

"W-what? I-I _do _have taste! I-I'm not _that _old!"

"It's nice to see you're blunt as always, Milady, despite the cold weather~ The snow can't be troubling you that much, if you're able to act as you usually do."

"I-I don't like the sound of that. What are you saying about my character, Ronove?"

"Nothing, nothing~"

"B-beato, don't be rude. The coat I chose was _not _tasteless. It compliments your dress very well," said Virgilia a little belatedly; face flushed with embarrassment. "And, I'm worried about you. You'll catch a cold if you don't wrap up warmer."

"No, Teacher! I already said I wouldn't let this weather defeat me, and I'm going to stand by that! As a witch, I can't go back on words! I'm not weak or pathetic like yoooou, Teacher! My youth will see me through this! Gyahahahaha!~"

"Pu ku ku~ Milady is very talented, to talk so passionately about something so ridiculous~"

"R-ridiculous? I'm not ridiculous, I'm-"

"Heeeey, Lia! Ronove! Riiche! Come and build a snowman with us, come and plaaay!" cried Gaap cheerfully; waving her arms at the trio drinking tea under the arbor. "Come on, come on! It'll be fun! Stop sitting there _talking _like you're all _sooooo _mature or something! Nobody is too old to build a snowman!"

"I-I'm not pretending to be mature!" Virgilia retorted. "I can be fun and youthful too! Of course I'll join in! Then we'll see who's 'old', Gaap!"

"I suppose, if you want me to help, it would be incredibly rude not to. I wouldn't want to disappoint anybody," said Ronove, with a small smile. "I'd be glad to join in."

"Alright!" said Mammon enthusiastically. "Ronove's pretty strong, so I think having him on my team will be a huge help! We'll definitely build the biggest snowman!"

"No, no, no! Ronove's my friend, not yours'! He's on my team!" Beelzebub retorted.

"If you're having Ronove then you'll have to have Lia as well, as a handicap!" Mammon shot back.

Virgilia _glowered_. "I'm not a handicap, you insolent children! Apologize at once!"

""K-kyaah! S-sorry, Miss Virgilia!""

"I-I didn't even know this was a competition?" asked Asmodeus, looking a little confused. "Can't we just play together nicely?"

"If it's not a competition, it's not fun!" retorted Leviathan. "Crush the opposition! That's what you have to do! I won't let anybody beat me!"

"C-crush? I-I don't like the sound of that… …"

"But there are ten of us already," said Belphegor, frowning. "If we add Milady, that will be eleven, and one team will be bigger than the other…?"

As usual, everybody ignored her.

"Okay, everybody else is playing! Now we just need you, Riiche!" said Gaap. "Are you gonna play, are you, are you? Not like you have an option; you have to join in! It wouldn't be the same without you!"

"Yeah! If the other team's snowman gets too big, you can always use your shoulder towers to destroy it!" said Leviathan.

"Isn't that cheating?" asked Belphegor.

"All's fair in love and snowman building," was Mammon's nonsensical reply.

"W-well, um…" Beatrice looked down at her outfit dubiously. It wasn't really the right sort of attire to wear for building a snowman. "I don't know. I-I'm… not really interested."

"Awww. Why nooot?"

"B-because building a snowman is, ah… unrefined for a witch like me. I-I'm far too important for menial labor like that!" Beato forced an arrogant smirk. "It's not like I'm threatened by the cold or anything, hihihi! I'm, just, um, too refined to run around like a child, so, um… I... I… I-eeyaaaaaaah! **GAAAAaaAaAP!**"

Beato's loud scream split the air.

Somehow, _miraculously_… a portal had opened up in the air before her…

…and it had dumped a whole load of snow… right down the top of her dress!

There was no doubt about the culprit's identity… and even if there was, it'd soon be given away by Gaap bursting into peals of laughter.

"Ohoho?~ Now how did thaaaat happen?~ I wonder! Now I guess you'll have to go get changed into some proper clothes and play with us, huuuh?"

Beatrice's face twisted into a rather terrible expression that could have made Ghatanothoa burst into tears.

"GAAAAP!I am_ literally_ going to _**kill**_ you!"


	198. Seen and not heard

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #198: Seen and not heard

* * *

><p>"H-how can you tell such slanderous lies like that? O-of course father isn't dead; of course he isn't! W-why would my husband and I lie like that? Are you calling us liars?"<p>

"Ahaha, weeeeell~" Eva giggled sadistically, hiding her face behind her fan. "They _do _say those who protest too much are guilty, don't they? And you're definitely protesting a _lot _right now, aren't you, Nat~suuu~hiiii?~"

Natsuhi drew back, pained.

"H-how dare you make baseless accusations like that against me and my husband? I won't allow it! As Ushiromiya Natsuhi, the head of the kitchen in the Ushiromiya family, I-I will not allow you to insult me or my family further in our own home!"

"Oh?~ Head of the kitchen, hmmm?~ How cute. How funny. Are you trying to soothe my foul temper by making me laugh, Natsuhi? How kind… how thoughtful… Hahahahaha~"

Eva continued to giggle; her laughter high-pitched and truly chilling. It sounded like the laughter of a young child who derived joy from pinning down weak, unresisting little ants with their fingers… and crushing them into the dirt.

If Eva was the cruel child, then surely poor Natsuhi, who couldn't help but jump in and defend her husband at the expense of her own dignity and pride… was the ant.

At that moment, Eva drew the fan away from her face- and all the assembled adults, even Hideyoshi, had to shudder at how demonic it looked.

Eva hardly looked human.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Natsuhi? You, who are not even permitted to wear the one-winged eagle on your clothes? You might be the 'head of the kitchen', but what does that make you? Little more than a scullery maid! And maids should show respect towards their social betters, rii~iight, _**riiiiiight**_? Isn't that what you're always instructing Shannon? You might be able to exert authority over a clumsy girl like that, but don't think you can use the same attitude on me! I am Ushiromiya Eva, a real member of the Ushiromiya family- and you are nothing more than a borrowed womb! Be silent, filthy scullery maid- don't look at me like that! You have no right to look at me like that! Don't overstep your mark, don't butt into our conversation, don't act with airs and graces when you're nothing more than a tool for making children! The kitchen is the only place where you'll have any control in this house- so why don't you go back there, you pathetic maid?"

By this point, Hideyoshi had placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, asking her to be quiet- for God's sake, Eva, _stop bein' so rude to Natsuhi, there is a line, ya know…_

But that line had already been crossed- and it was far, far too late.

All of Natsuhi's anxieties, her worries and her self esteem issues had been thrown in her face all at once… and all from the mouth of a real Ushiromiya with far more influence than her.

Eva might have been in her house, drinking the tea her servants had made, and she might have been Natsuhi's guest… but she was certainly Natsuhi's superior.

Compared to Eva, Natsuhi really _did _mean nothing.

Natsuhi would never be accepted into this family.

She was only a 'borrowed womb'.

A scullery maid.

Natsuhi wasn't even allowed to fire angry insults at Eva to protect herself. Parting shots and bitter words were the last gift given to losers in an argument… but Natsuhi didn't have the right to use those.

She had no way of releasing the pain in her heart… so she could only bite her lip… and try to hold back her tears.

It didn't work.

The only person Natsuhi had left to rely on Krauss. Krauss was her wonderful husband, and she loved him- she loved him deeply, from the bottom of her heart. She would have done anything for him. Time and time again, when his brother and sisters attacked him, Natsuhi would jump to defence, regardless of how painfully she could be beaten down.

As her husband, didn't he have a right to defend her?

Natsuhi looked at Krauss with pitiful, pathetic, tearful eyes, asking him wordlessly for help.

She looked at him for a long time.

An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Natsuhi's sobbing.

And then, slowly, Krauss spoke.

He sighed, pressing a hand to his temple, like a… disappointed parent. He used the same tones he affected with Jessica when she hadn't done her homework- as though Natsuhi, by defending his honor, had done something disgraceful that needed punishing.

"…Natsuhi. You're making a scene. Can't you follow Kyrie's example and remain silent whilst the real members of the family are talking?"

Natsuhi let out a strangled gasp. Her hands flew to her mouth to hold back that ugly sound- but she couldn't suppress it in time. So everybody heard. They all heard how truly pathetic Natsuhi was at that moment. And they all saw, from her tears, just how badly she had been hurt.

"B-but darling, I… I… I-I was just trying to defend you…"

"And it's a sad state of affairs when a wife has to defend a husband," said Krauss cuttingly. "How can you be of any use when you're acting so emotionally? Maybe you should go and re-apply your make-up. I don't want you interrupting this important discussion."

Natsuhi's eyes widened. Her face burned bright with shame. She couldn't even talk, because it felt like her throat had collapsed in on itself.

All of this…

Everything she did, she did solely for her husband… and for the Ushiromiya family…

But her best efforts were always pushed aside.

Now, not even her husband would support her- even though she had been trying to support _him_.

Nobody wanted Natsuhi. Her tears were making Krauss irritated… Eva cruelly amused… and the others embarrassed.

She was truly embarrassing.

So Natsuhi left.

The head of the household, who had suffered a terrible string of headaches trying to ensure everything was perfect for the family conference, left her own party in disgrace… just like a naughty child in disgrace.

If she was a naughty child, she wasn't allowed to protest, because children were better seen and not heard.

The only thing she could do was cry.


	199. Cut from the same cloth

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #199: Cut from the same cloth

* * *

><p>"Wow! Maria, that's really good!"<p>

"Uu? R-really?"

"Yes, of course! If I said so, it _has _to be true! Mm, that's just the way it is! Ahahaha!"

With a cheerful laugh, Gaap leant over little Maria's shoulder so as to give her drawing a little more scrutiny.

Maria and Beato were busily sketching designs for some of Maria's new friends; a quartet of rabbits from a band in a forest. Whilst Beato's artwork was a little more 'advanced' than Maria's, with crisper lines and correct proportions, Maria's pictures were very impressive for such a young girl. Though the model she had fitted her outfit on was a little awkward, with a distinctly cartoon-ish look and giant, boxing glove-esque hands, the outfit Maria had created was beautiful. It was so intricate and ornate even Gaap, who only wore the latest fashions, would have worn it proudly.

Maria had even annotated her outfit with what material it would be made from! That really was quite professional!

Oh!~

Gaap smiled, as she looked at the numerous designs Maria had already discarded. She'd been developing this particular costume over a course of sketches, too?

Wouldn't most girls Maria's age focus on creating something cute the first time, then get bored- never bothering to refine it?

Maria really was an incredible little girl. When it came to creating her perfect universe with Beato, she really did try her best. Aah, it was so adorable Gaap thought her heart was going to melt.

"Maria, you have some serious talent! If I had a fashion company, I'd hire you as a designer in an instant!" said Gaap, shifting through Maria's developmental sketches. "This outfit is so hot… I-I just want to see your bunny girl friends wearing it right now!"

"Uu? R-really, really?" Maria clamoured; her eyes lighting up at all the praise. "You're being serious!"

"I already said I was, ahaha~ How did you get so good at designing clothes?"

"Uu, well… Mama is a fashion designer. That's Mama's job," Maria explained proudly. "When Mama's in a good mood she shows me her latest designs, uu, uu! Taught me how to sketch, Mama taught me! Mama said Maria was good at it, too! Uu! Maria wants to be just like Mama!"

Maria's smile was radiant. Evidently, she was overjoyed at sharing a common talent with her mother.

"Hehe, you're so cute~ Of course your Mama is proud of your sketches; they're impressive! You should show her these ones, too."

"Uu… Mama gets annoyed when I draw all my friends… Mama says Maria should play with real people, uu…"

"Hey, _I'm _real," Gaap retorted. "Everything you see is natural, believe it or not!~ I'm not made out of silicon at all!"

"S… s… silicon…? What's that?"

"Doesn't matter," said Gaap airily, grinning. "Any~way~ Maria~ You say your Mama designs clothes?"

"Yes!" said Maria, nodding. "She owns a huge company! Mama is a successful business lady! Maria is so proud!"

"And what's the name of her company?"

"Um… I think, uuu… Anti-Rosa!"

"Anti-Rosa, hmm? Hehe…" Gaap grinned. "_Perfect_."

"Gaap," said Beato flatly, "what are you planning to do? I don't like that laugh."

With a loud 'ha!', Gaap stabbed one long, slender finger tipped with a sharp, bright red nail in Beato's direction. "You see! I've been telling you this for ages and ages, but I'll say it again! When you're with Maria, Beato, you start sounding exactly like Lia! You've got to stop acting so _mature_! It's giving your big sister an ulcer!"

Beato remained unmoved. "_Gaap_."

"Oh, don't worry! I'm not going to do anything bad! I'm just intrigued~" Giggle, giggle. "If Rosa's clothes are even one third as amazing as her daughter's designs, I think I might just have found a new favorite brand name… ufufu~"

* * *

><p>It was with a sigh that Ushiromiya Rosa returned home. She'd been working at her company non-stop for the past two days, snatching a few scant moments of sleep only when she was too tired to keep her eyelids open. As such, she was exhausted.<p>

Falling asleep on her desk wasn't such a good idea. Her neck was in _agony._

_Urgh_.

Hopefully, she'd be able to catch an hour or two of sleep before Maria came home from school.

Listlessly, Rosa checked the contents of the letter box next to the front door; not expecting to find anything but bad news.

However…

"Hm? What's this?"

...There was a strange envelope in her letter box; bright red, unlike the usual official-looking white Rosa was used to. Rosa's address had been written in a strange, overly ornate style of handwriting that was difficult to read, and the 'Miss Ushiromiya Rosa' had been written not in Japanese characters, but in a cursive English font even a person fluent in English would have had difficulty in discerning. The envelope was sealed with a very strange wax symbol; a pentacle containing cross with small, compacted characters running round the circumference of the circle. It looked exactly like something from one of those horrible 'occult books' in Kinzo's library; and Rosa instantly linked the letter to something dubious.

If Maria had been there, she would have been able to tell Rosa the pentacle was not just a strange occult scribble, but the sixth pentacle of Jupiter; used to protect objects against all earthly dangers.

With that knowledge, it could safely deduced the person who had written this letter wanted Rosa to receive it very badly… yet they were worried it would be damaged or intercepted on its journey.

Rosa, however, did not know this. Rather than feeling flattered at this safety precaution, instead, it made her headache worse. Was this some kind of prank? A joke of Maria's?

It couldn't be. That handwriting was nothing like her daughter's. And how would Maria create a wax seal like that?

It might have been from Kinzo, then- even if it wasn't sealed with the one winged eagle crest. Rosa wouldn't put anything past her father, who had been growing increasingly odder and more eccentric as the years passed. Was this letter related to the distribution of the inheritance?

It could have been incredibly important.

Rosa's heart began to beat a little faster in her chest.

With a faint feeling of trepidation, fingers trembling, Rosa opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Then she began to read.

But it wasn't from Kinzo.

It wasn't even from Maria.

The letter's contents were even stranger than Rosa had ever dreamed of.

_Dear Miss Ushiromiya,_

_Recently I learnt of your fashion label, Anti-Rosa, from a very reliable source… and, to cut a long story short (I hate formalities, they're sooo boring!), I really love your clothes!_

_I love them so much, I'm like- wow, why didn't I think of designing outfits this adorable before? This is exactly the kind of stuff I adore! Your clothes aren't as 'daring' as the stuff I usually wear, but still- I can't believe your clothes could be this cute!~ Kyuun! I-I think we must share a like mind, because we have really similar tastes! You're my new idol! I-if I ever met you person, maybe even a straightforward girl like me would start to blush and get all weak at the knees!  
><em>

_Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_

_Aaah, too bad, owing to certain… circumstances… I probably can't meet you in person. I mean, I live too far away. Japanese isn't even my first language. Can you tell by this messy handwriting?~ Then again, Lia tells me my handwriting is always awful, and I should cut my fingernails because they're too long to hold a quill properly…_

_Oops, sorry… anyway…_

_You're a genius~ I don't know why your label isn't more popular? Uu, it's a pity… But, don't worry! I'm going to support you from hereon out, using whatever skills I can! I think I've bought pretty much all your stock now; and some outfits, like, three times over (I might want to dress up with my friends?~)! I even enclosed photos, so you can a look if you like! If I can never see you face to face, at least you can see me in a photo?_

_If you like, you can use those photos for advertising or something? I know I'm devilishly pretty; your tiny company will be more popular with a girl like me advertising for you! Kekekeke!_

_Love,_  
><em>Lady U. N. Owen~~~<em>

True to the letter's contents, there were photos enclosed inside the envelope- and a great deal, too. The assorted snapshots, all rather professional, showed a attractive woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. Her corkscrew curls seemed to defy all gravity and common sense as they bounced freely about her face.

She certainly didn't look Japanese.

If Rosa used a person like that to advertise her stock, she would certainly get more attention. It was almost impossible not to stare.

Those eyes...

That _hair_…

Even that chest…!

Rosa began to feel light-headed; lost in her own muddled and confused thoughts.

How could such a strange, suspicious envelope contain such sincere wishes of regard? The sender was far too over-enthusiastic, yes, in a manner that made Rosa feel a little uncomfortable- but, at the same time, they didn't sound dangerous.

They had said Japanese wasn't their first language- and they looked European instead of Asian. That could explain the strange way the letter was phrased; and maybe the odd seal, too. Despite her father's love of the Western culture, Rosa didn't know very much about it, beyond her favorite fairytales.

Was it possible?

Did Rosa's small company really have fans?

Her company, which was sinking slowly right before her very eyes, had a fan as devoted as this?

It was bizarre.

Incredibly bizarre.

And yet…

When people valued her work, it somehow made all the stress and grief she poured into her business worthwhile.

Somebody cared.

They really cared.

All of a sudden, her life felt a little less bleak- and far, far brighter.

Rosa was a practical woman in many regards… but even she couldn't stop her small, silly smile.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Random crack pairing prompt by _kittylyoko _on tumblr. I know it's not really a 'pairing', but writing these two was fun ^_^; If you want to send me crack pairing prompts, or… any umineko prompts at all, you can send them through my tumblr ask box, if you want ^_^;; These prompts encourage me to write about odd character relationships I wouldn't think of by myself, it's a lot of fun XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	200. EXTRA: Letters from three witches

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #200: Letters from Featherine, Bern & Lambda

* * *

><p>Hello, Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>.

I hope you are well. How is the weather in the small, insignificant corner of the kakera sea you reside in, child of man?

Aaah, but enough with these formalities… Manners are such a chore, aren't they? They dictate that humans must spend the greater portion of their lives bothering with tedious small talk before they may finally broach the subjects they wish to discuss.

It is of no consequence to me that you children of men are very inefficient and uneconomical with your limited lifetimes, as my existence is eternal… but, ahaha~ It is sad that a race such as yourselves would bother to waste what precious little life you do possess on idle conversation.

Ahaha~ You children of men are so strange, communicating with you is quite pleasant~

Given I am not human, I am in no means bound by social etiquette- so please excuse me if I forgo the pleasantries and begin to talk in a more curt manner.

I recently discovered you have been writing a series of stories based upon that young child's game board. Ha, that's nothing new; countless people have done the same thing. Even I have dabbled in creating a few tales myself… though none of them are particularly heart-warming. I'll refrain from mentioning them; you might be happier that way~

Being a busy woman, I have only skimmed a few stories in your collection. I have seen tales based upon this game board before, you see, so I have begun to tire of them somewhat.

Ah, well… I'm disappointed; really disappointed. The main interest of that child's game board was the mystery aspect, poorly constructed though it was- yet you have completely done away with that. Why should I care for interactions between the characters, without an overarching plot for the to exist in? These 'characters' are like tiny ants compared to me. Do you frequently ponder the lives and relationships of the small insects you accidentally step on whilst going about your daily life? I doubt it.

It's not interesting.

So you don't care.

Most of the time, you hardly even notice the ants you step on, do you?~ Hahaha~ It is like that for me- but I don't destroy ants.

Ufufufu~ Forgive me for being a harsh critic… but tales like yours' really are dull; like tea without enough sugar, or bland leaves. Aaaah, these tales don't leave a bitter aftertaste at all; and the tea that makes one purse their lips is the kind I prefer the best.

It stays with you the longest.

I won't impede your progress; by all means, keep writing~ But, a word of caution…

Do remember, I am not a simple piece like the others in your stories.

Although your stories will have no influence on my reputation, given they are so insipid and unimportant, I am a fickle witch; and I may become quite… offended… if you misrepresent me.

And when I am unhappy, I can do some very impolite things indeed.

I have already informed you that I am not a child of man… so I don't need to bother with human customs, you understand?

If you any sense, you will consider my words carefully.

Ahahahaha~

~Featherine, Witch of Drama and Theatergoing

* * *

><p>Hey, <em>Renahhchen<em>!

Hm, your name sounds kind of familiar. I think I might have encountered a girl with a name like that in another _kakera_… Hmm. Hm, hm, hm.

Oh well, that's not important. These kinds of coincidences happen.

(They wouldn't if you humans had more interesting, creative names like mine, but that's neither here nor there~)

Aaah, what's this? I see you've written lots of cute stories with me and my beloved Bern!

I'm so happy I could just squeeze your cheeks and pat your adorable lil' head until your skull caves in and your eyes get forced out of your head by the pressure!~

…Oh, but don't worry, I'll be really nice to your remains! I'll wrap them up with a pretty pink bow and display them for everybody to see, maybe with a little plaque underneath that says '**inspiring mind who ships Lambda/Bern!**' or something.

I think your corpse would start to rot and decompose after a while, though. The human body is really gross. It starts to bloat, and then maggots start burrowing into the flesh; and they eat and eat and eat, so the skin is peeled off the bone and the hair falls out. Then the skin starts to rupture. Then...

I don't want to think about that.

Not when I'm eating cake.

(Have I got crumbs on this letter? I'm sorry.)

Still. When I think about how disgusting humans are on the inside, I feel so superior. It's a nice feeling. I think the taste of this cake might be nicer, though. It's a tough call.

Hm... so if I can't use you as a statue until you decay, what _can _I do?

...

...Ooh, I know!~

I could scoop out all your insides- really lovingly and tenderly, of course- and fill up your skin with cotton candy instead? Hm, and I could even put bits of kompeito candy in your empty eye sockets as well, if you're reeeally that sad about losing your eyes. Aaah, you'd be so delicious and tasty!

Doesn't that sound like fun?~

I'm bored now I have nothing left to read, so it sure does sound like fun.

Hm… But if I did that, you'd never be able to write more stuff about me and my precious Bern… There are other authors and artists, I guess- most of whom are actually better than you- but there's no sense in cutting down my fanbase so needlessly! If I did that, I might stop being so popular.

Then I wouldn't be able to boast to Bern about it anymore.

Okay, I'll cut you a deal. I'll let you stay alive, with all your organs in the correct places (even though that's a bit boring), just so long as you keep writing things about me and extolling my noble name, okay?

Oh ho ho! I'm so generous!

I was third in the last official character poll after episode 8, so don't screw up my newfound fame by ruining my character, okay? Make everybody love me more and more- but make Bern love me the most!

I'm counting on you!

*giggle giggle* Ahahahahahahahaha!

Λ Δ  
>（＞ｗ＜）ノ<p>

P.S.  
>I like shipping characters on Beato's game board tooo, you know! When I was in charge of the fifth game I made Beato and Battler's pieces act in this really cuuuute romantic way, aaaah, it was adorable; he held her in his arms like she was a princess! I love stories like that~<p>

Can you write more stuff about those two as well?

If you do, I'll share my collection of cute BeaBato stories I made with you!

…

...Aah, wait, you know what?

It's not like you have a choice. If you don't do what I want, you'll soon find it difficult to open your eyes… … because your eyes won't be there! They'll just be pieces of hard candy instead!

Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

P.S.  
>Oops, please disregard that last part. I'm not really going to kill you.<p>

Please don't stop loving me o:

* * *

><p>Miss <em>Renahhchen,<em>

Why have you done this to me? Because of your infantile tales, Lambda has become even more irritating than usual. She now refuses to leave me alone- and constantly tells me we must always be together, for 'that is what the fandom desires'.

I don't care what that sea of mindless goats desire. I am the Witch of Miracles, and I do not blindly obey the whims and wishes of humans.

This really is quite troublesome.

Recently, I have been thinking…

Miss _Renahhchen_, are you, perhaps, one of the witches I ousted from the Senate centuries ago, under a strange pseudonym? Do you hold a grudge against me? Did you write these stories with the knowledge they would make Lambdadelta cling to me like a limpet?

I realize I may sound paranoid- but I do have a lot of enemies.

If you do have a grudge against me, feel free to display your hatred, but do not bring Lambdadelta into this.

Involving that child in a petty dispute like leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

If you want to pick a fight with me, please do it directly. It would alleviate my boredom somewhat… and my cute kitties do need a new scratching post. The old one is wearing away; and their claws are getting quite sharp.

I think your spine would be a most suitable replacement.

It really is _so _nice of you to offer.

Aaah, if I keep writing I'm only going to get irritated.

You're lucky I am such a patient woman, or your spine would already be separated from your skin.

Either stop writing these stories, or ask me for a fight directly. Those are the only two options I will give you. Choose wisely.

From Bernkastel, who is slightly irritated, but not enough to truly care

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Wow o: I can't really believe I've done 200 chapters for this story already… and it's not even near finished o_oll  
>Well, even if I write 200 more chapters, and this story keeps going until the next year, I hope all the people who still enjoy it will keep reading ^_^;;<p>

I've also edited the first 10 one shots, to make them a little nicer to read. Slowly, I'm going to try and edit all these stories, just to make sure they're all of a similar quality… and hopefully get rid of some spelling errors/poor sentences I know will be lurking there.

Thank you very much for your support! ^_^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	201. After the storm

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #201: After the storm

* * *

><p>This was fine, Asmodeus reasoned with herself.<p>

This was all fine.

She wasn't going to die.

She _wasn't._

At least… … she _probably _wasn't.

Sure, the thunder outside was really scary, but that was the point. It was _outside_. Asmodeus was safe and warm inside Ange's house, so nothing bad would be able to get her!

Um… it wouldn't, right?

R-right?

Although… Asmodeus wasn't that warm at all. The heating system had broken down a few days ago, and Ange still hadn't managed to fix it. The blonde stake's clothes offered little heat to soothe her skin; icy cold and prickling with fear. She was dressed in her favorite white night dress, the cute one with all the useless bows and lacy details, and her feet were bare. Her toes curled involuntarily into the carpet for a little extra warmth, but it didn't work.

She shivered.

She wasn't sure whether she was shivering because of the cold or her own silly worries and anxieties.

Most likely, it was both.

B-but, even if she wasn't warm, she was safe, right? It wasn't like the thunder could get her in Ange's house. Not unless it was homing thunder, which could fly under the cracks of doors or keyholes like the Chiester sisters' golden arrows.

…Thunder wasn't like that, was it?

No, it definitely wasn't! Not in the human world! If it was, she would've heard about it; Asmodeus was sure Ange would've thought to give it a mention! Ange was a sensible girl, she wouldn't neglect to tell Asmodeus something important like that! She would've said when the weather report yesterday said there'd be a thunderstorm; she would've **said**!

B-but… what if it had slipped her mind?

Or, even more plausibly… what if worked differently on demons? Asmodeus had never seen a thunderstorm before, so she couldn't deny that possibility!

What if-

_Crack!_

"K-kyaaa!"

Whimpering, the stake pressed her hands against her ears and closed her eyes shut tightly. It was no use, though. The image of the upstairs corridor, brightly lit up by that burst of thunder, remained imprinted beneath her eyelids.

She tried to forget… but she couldn't.

She couldn't make the thunder seem any less real, or any less threatening.

It was going to get her.

It was going to get her.

It was going to-

_Crack!_

"Eeep!"

Aaa, this was horrible! I-it was absolutely horrible! Asmodeus hated thunder; she really hated it; she hated it so much! It was even worse than wind and rain and fog; it was worse than all of them combined! At least those elements weren't so _darned _noisy!

There was a reason weather didn't exist in the meta world unless summoned by magic; there was a very, very good reason!

Asmodeus didn't understand thunder and she didn't know how it worked, despite Belphegor's best attempts to educate her. All Asmo knew was that it was something she hadn't encountered before, and it was frightening given its unknown nature.

This was probably why humans were so afraid of demons.

Humans didn't understand demons. They didn't understand the full extent of the powers they possessed, so their minds were free to invent and attribute all kinds of horrible personality traits and abilities to them. If humans understood demons, they wouldn't have been so scared of them.

The same could be applied in reverse.

Asmodeus didn't understand thunder. If she understood it, and was accustomed it, she would know it wasn't that scary at all.

The other sisters seemed to understand thunder wasn't particularly harmful, and so were unaffected by it- but, even though Asmodeus knew, logically, they were right... she couldn't stop being afraid.

It wasn't like fear was logical or anything.

That was why she left her room to go and find Ange. Asmodeus knew it was late at night, and she knew it was selfish to trouble Ange, and she _knew_, deep down, the thunder wasn't going to do anything more heinous than make a few loud noises and light up her room, but none of her knowledge mattered.

It didn't stop her heart from constricting at every loud crash of thunder.

It didn't calm her nerves.

It didn't-

_Crash!_

"Kyaaa...!"

But now it looked like she would never be able to make it to Ange's room at all.

That bolt of thunder had finally wiped away what little of her confidence that remained.

Asmodeus' legs were too weak to hold her body upright anymore. With two _thumps_, both her knees hit the floor- the right one, then the left, in quick succession. Still whimpering to herself, she curled up in the fetal position, arms wrapped tightly round her knees… and tried not to cry.

She must have looked really stupid.

Yeah, if any of her sisters saw her like this, she'd die of embarrassment- she'd just_ die_. She was already teased enough for being the youngest. That meant she had to act mature, or they'd tease her even _more_. Wasn't she always trying to prove just how sophisticated and elegant she could be?

Lying on the floor whimpering like a baby wasn't very sophisticated and elegant; it wasn't at all! This was something that pathetic Battler did when Beato was mean to him- i-it wasn't fitting behavior for a Stake of Purgatory like Asmodeus!

She had to get up.

She had to-

_Crash!_

"U-uwaaaaah!"

U-useless, it was all useless… …!

Now Asmodeus knew why Battler liked to wail and scratch at his head all the times when things went wrong! It made it easier to forget the horrible things that were happening to her!

Wouldn't the thunder just cut it out already? Couldn't it apologize and say it was worry? Why did it delight in teasing her so? Why was it so mean? Why? What did she ever do? What did she do?

_Crash!_

"Kyaaaaa!"

"Hey, what's all this noise? The thunder's loud enough, I don't need you guys shouting and chasing each other down the corri... dor... ...

"Asmo...?"

Asmodeus whole body stiffened.

She knew that voice. It was tinged with irritation, but sounded too tired to be truly threatening- and yet, when it trailed off, it was with the faintest hint of compassion, and confusion.

Asmodeus forced every fibre of her weak, trembling being to crack open her eyelids. Nervously, she lifted her head.

Then, she tried to smile.

"U-um... H-hi, Ange."

Ange blinked.

"What are you doing on the floor?"

"U-um, nothing, I was just, um, I-"

_Crash!_

"U-uwaaah! S-stop it, j-just stop it!"

Of course, the thunder did no such thing. It was far too loud to hear Asmo's frantic requests over its own noise- and even if had heard her, it wouldn't have stopped.

Thunder wasn't known to be very polite.

_Crash!_

Asmodeus was soon reduced to a helpless, trembling mess, as though she were dying slowly from hypothermia. If one listened closely, they might have been able to hear her teeth chattering together, or her rapid heartbeat. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees- so tightly, it looked like she was in danger of snapping her legs in two like bits of dry kindling. Her head was bowed, eyes closed tightly. Her skin was white as paper. Her blonde hair, free from their usual pigtails, pooled about her in a tangled mess.

The poor girl looked absolutely petrified.

But at least Ange could understand the crux of this problem.

A lesser detective than her could have solved it, once they observed how violently poor Asmodeus reacted to each crash of thunder.

Ha…

What a silly stake.

With a small smile, Ange knelt down on the floor beside the cowering Asmodeus, and pulled her limp body into a tight hug.

Asmodeus' face turned light pink at their sudden close contact, and a small doughnut of steam drifted out her head.

"A-ange?"

"Yes, that is my name. Now, don't worry. It'll be okay."

Ange softly used the same tone of voice her mother had utilized when she, as a young child, had been too scared to go to sleep for one reason or another. Ange remembered she hadn't liked the thunder very much, either, so she knew exactly what to say to Asmo to calm her down. It was her mother had said to her- and it still stuck in her mind.

She'd always thought her mother was really smart, so she tried to her best to remember all her phrases and emulate her in every way possible.

"You know, all storms will pass. They may seem scary right now, but it's not going to be like that forever. Things always get better over time. Mm... I think, looking back on that now… that's definitely true."

"Y-you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Um… You promise?"

"I promise. This storm will certainly end."

"U-um... u-um..." Asmodeus stuttered for a few moments, her face turning redder and redder. "T-thank you, Ange…"

"It's no problem." Ange smiled. "But, if the thunder is still troubling you... you could always spend the night in my room."

Asmodeus didn't want to seem too eager to accept Ange's offer. She didn't want to annoy her, or get in her way, or take up space, or be a burden, or look immature and stupid and childish and incapable of taking care of herself o-or, o-or-

_Crash!_

"Kyaaa!"

Asmodeus squeaked and tightly flung her arms round Ange's middle, nearly squeezing all the air out of Ange's lungs. Burying her head in Ange's front, Asmodeus squealed, "U-um... P-please, yes please, I-I would like to! T-thank you! Thank you very much! U-uwaaah… …!"

It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter.

The thunder had decided it for her.

But, maybe it was a good thing it had.

When she was curled up in bed beside Ange, Asmodeus didn't feel nearly as alone.

The thunder wasn't all that frightening anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **For _Fame of Games_~  
>This one was easy to write, but difficult to edit afterwards into something I actually liked XD<p> 


	202. Analepsis

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #202: Analepsis

* * *

><p>"<em>Wrong<em>!"

"Then the culprit is still hiding inside the room! That's right; it's not a closed room at all! They're hiding in, say, the wardrobe for example, and-"

"No, sorry~ Try agaaain!~"

"Argh... Then, ah, the culprit broke the chain, committed the crime, then re-sealed the chain when they left?"

"You think it'd be that easy to re-seal a chain like that without anybody noticing? You really think thaaaat little of Kanon's intelligence, do you?"

"Fine then! Then maybe, um, Eva and Hideyoshi weren't really dead, but were pretending!"

"Do they look like they're only play-acting to you? Look, see, look- looook! There's a stake wedged deep in their heads; those stakes have penetrated right into the skulls! Do you think anybody could fake something like that? Do you, do you reaaaally? I'm sorry, Baaattler, but you're wrong agaaaaain! Gyahahahaha!"

Battler winced and held a hand to his head. Every time he proposed a theory to break open this closed room, the witch struck him down so quickly, and with so little remorse, it started to feel like her words were forming a real bruise on his forehead.

Damn it... Reasoning with somebody like this, who kept laughing at him with that smirking face, was really, really pissing him off!

"Tch... You could be a little nicer about it, you know, you hag."

Beatrice laughed pleasantly, as though she had just been told a joke by a long-lost friend (not that Battler believed, with her attitude, she had any friends). "Ahaha, how charming~ I can already tell I'll have fun breaking you down. You'll pay for calling me a hag. I'm an attractive, beautiful woman! I be~eet you'd love to get your hands on my elegant breasts, huuuuh?"

Battler laughed. "Ahaha, you've seen through me that fast? Useless, it's all useless."

"If it's all so very, veeeery useless, then why don't I make you a deal? If you prostrate yourself on the carpet and rub your head against the floor like the lowly animal you are, and proclaim my greatness to the world, theeeen I might let you rub my chest for a few seconds… … before I drive nails through every single one of your fingers and let my demon friends tear you into pieces and take you to hell! Gyahahahahahahahahaha!"

Battler smirked, a challenging spark alighting in his eyes.

Beato had picked the wrong opponent for a skirmish over the mystery genre with. Battler had been obsessed with detective novels ever since he was a little kid, and recently, Kyrie's tutelage had only sharpened his mind. In this fight of wits, his mind was sharpened like a treasured sword. He definitely wouldn't let this witch win!

"Heh. That's a nice offer; yeah, it's a really nice offer! Maybe I would brave the depths of hell just to squeeze a pair of breasts like yours'! But!" Battler stabbed a finger in Beatrice's direction. "I will not lose to somebody like you! Witches have no place in the mystery genre! If you want to terrify people so badly, go back to giving out poisoned apples or locking princesses up in towers!

"I haven't lost yet! I'll tear the mask of a 'witch' right off your face, Miss. Real Culrpit! Then, I'll give you the death sentence! That's right; I'll be able to grope your boobs all I like! Ihihihi!"

* * *

><p>"Aah, that's not fair! I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner..."<p>

"Hehe~ It's fine, Battler. I couldn't find out the culprit until the end. I couldn't think of any explanation other than witchcraft at all, ehehe~"

"But it all seemed so obvious at the end! How could I get confused so easily?" Twelve-year-old Ushiromiya Battler laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. It wasn't like he was angry he had lost, though. If anything, it had been… fun. So, if losing this battle of wits was the price he had to pay for having fun, he would gladly accept it, with grace.

"Still, this game you've created is really awesome, Shannon. I never thought that, if you took out the human culprit from a mystery story, the culprit would then seem like a witch."

Shannon smiled shyly and averted her gaze from Battler; evidently embarrassed that he had enjoyed their little battle of logic so much. The only people she had to discuss mystery novels with were Kumasawa and sometimes Dr. Nanjo- and, though that was pleasant, it was nice to have somebody her own age to talk to.

Battler made mysteries more exciting.

Battler… made everything more exciting.

Everything.

Shannon even felt she could smile with just a little more sincerity when he was sat beside her; shoulders not quite brushing hers', as they read mystery novels together under the arbor.

The flowers that surrounded them looked even prettier than usual.

"I hope we can have lots more fun arguments like this in the future," said Battler suddenly, impulsively, after a small silence. It was a thought he'd had throughout the duration of his game with Shannon- but he'd been too shy to admit it. Now, knowing he would be returning home in a few hours, it all came pouring out of him. He was smiling... but, like Shannon's, it was tinged with shyness. "Next time, I'll definitely defeat the illusion of the witch for sure."

"I-I look forward to it! I'm sure you will! B-but, um… I'll make sure to give you hard challenge, okay? I'll try my best!"

"Sure, sure; no matter how you ramp up the difficulty, I won't lose! Ihihi... And if the difficulty is really high, I should get a really good reward, huh?"

"O-oh, of course! W-what?"

"Ah, well, um… you know… I... I'll rescue the princess, of course; and take her somewhere far, far away. Ihihi..."

Shannon's eyes widened to the size of quail's eggs. A slight tremor ran through her bdy.

"B-battler, I... I..."

A-aah, this was getting too sappy; w-way too sappy! If Battler kept thinking about depressing stuff, like not seeing Shannon for a whole year, he might actually start to cry. Already, his heart feeling pretty heavy.

H-he had to be strong, he had to be strong...

"And... Ihihi." He grinned; trying to fight his own feelings into submission. "If I win, I'll get to rub whatever breasts you've developed when I next see you! What about that!"

Shannon's face turned bright red.

"T-then I definitely w-won't lose!"

* * *

><p>"Ahaha? You want to grope my breasts? How nice, how nice; but I could never allow thaaaat to happen, Ushiromiya Baaattler!"<p>

Beatrice smirked as she looked at Battler; eyes narrowed, pipe pinched between her fingers.

Battler really hadn't changed at all, had he?

But... she was almost unrecognizable.

It was only natural he wouldn't remember.

But she could at least hope he remembered the fun they had with these arguments- as his whole face filled with determination and resolve.


	203. In the cauldron boil and bake

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #203: In the cauldron boil and bake

* * *

><p>Eva glared at the carrot pinched between her fingers.<p>

The carrot glared back.

…Or maybe it didn't and Eva was just tired.

Exhausted, the young woman pressed the heavy knife (it wasn't meant to be this heavy) against the orange flesh of the carrot. This time, she told herself, she'd slice it perfectly. This time the pieces of carrot would be so beautiful, so even, that would bring even the people with the coldest of hearts to tears at how lovely it was. This time-

_Skrrtttttt._

"A-aargh!"

Or maybe she'd slice her index finger off instead.

Whatever worked.

Depositing the bloody knife on the chopping board next to the equally bloody (and badly cut) carrot, Eva rank to the sink, running her fingers under the hot water. It stung, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. This was just a… minor set back.

Eva would make her husband the dinner he deserved even if it killed her.

* * *

><p><em>This is pointless, you know, <em>said a small voice in Eva's head. It giggled. _Pointless~ Why are you trying so hard to please somebody else? You should look out for yourseeelf._

Eva narrowed her eyes. She wanted to make Hideyoshi happy because he was her husband and she loved him. It was simple. Hideyoshi did most of the cooking because, having servants to wait on her beck and call when she was young, she had never learnt herself. Eva wanted to treat Hideyoshi once in a while.

_So you're going to thank him by giving him food poisoning, is that riiiight?~ I didn't realize you hated him that much, fufufufu~_

The voice sounded incredibly familiar; a lot like Eva when she was younger…

Eva sighed. Had she really been that annoying?

Apparently so; and she hadn't managed to shake that childish side of her personality even now. It clung to the corner of her thoughts like some disgusting caterpillar on a leaf, giggling and mocking everything she did; saying it was useless- saying she should just drop down dead- Ushiromiya Eva didn't try to please anybody-

But Hideyoshi was her husband, and Eva loved him, and she was quite different from that selfish little girl she used to be.

_You're still awful at cooking, though. You know what your darling Hideyoshi called you? 'A witch in the kitchen'. Fufufu~ You know what ingredients witches use in their potions, right? You think being called a witch was a compliment? Hahahaha!_

_No, listen. _I'm _the real witch of the kitchen, and I know what you should do._

Eva's eyes widened. She couldn't do anything so underhanded, could she?

Her childhood self smiled sweetly.

_You're an Ushiromiya, aren't you? Get your act together. Being underhanded is what you do! Ahh, you're so stupid, I don't know why I put up with you anymore~_

The feeling was mutual.

* * *

><p>"Ta da," said Eva, putting a plate down in front of her husband. "It took a while, but I know it will taste fine! Enjoy!"<p>

"My, yer awfully proud of yourself," said Hideyoshi, smiling, as he looked at the plate of steaming food before him. "Thanks, Eva; it looks wonderful!"

Eva smiled in return as she took her own seat at the table. If it hadn't been for her sudden stroke of genius she would still be in the kitchen, cutting carrots into wonky shapes with only four fingers whilst swearing under her breath.

This was much nicer.

So what if she hadn't made it herself? She didn't think Hideyoshi would mind- and he probably _had_ noticed, given the small smile he gave Eva.

All that mattered was that they got to spend time together as a family.

_Ahaha~ Ready meals really are a godsend, aren't they?~_

Eva winced, as a small prickle of guilt ran through her heart.

She would learn how to cook properly tomorrow.

She _would._

She was an Ushiromiya, and if she put her mind to it she could conquer anything.

But, for now, Eva didn't want to conquer.

She just wanted to sit with her husband and enjoy a nice meal.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Um, to answer a question from an anonymous reviewer… I write Asmodeus and Belphe more than the other stakes because I actually get requests to write those two- and personally, I enjoy writing those two more than the others. I think it's a bit impolite to say you're 'aggravted' just because I don't always write what you want me to ._.


	204. The taste of triumph

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #204: The taste of triumph

* * *

><p>"Hey! Get back here, you annoying brats!"<p>

"Noo~oo way, kyakyakya!"

"Aww, what you gonna do Battleeeer, what you gonna to dooo? Nihihihi!~"

It didn't matter how fast Battler ran; Beelzebub and Chiester 410 were too fast for him. Even though those two girls were short, with stumpy little legs, delicate bodies and huge breasts that should've weighed them down, they were impossibly fast! It didn't help that Beelze could friggin _levitate_.

Battler was sick of energetic breakfasts like this. Sure, Battler was used to noisy meal times, when that old bastard would tease him incessantly between mouthfuls of rice, but this was way worse than that! At least with that old bastard, Battler actually got to eat his food! He never had to _fight _for it.

Everything was an uphill struggle when magic was involved. All of Beato's cute familiars were evil. Those seven sisters had enjoyed staking him repeatedly in earlier games. Now, Beelzebub (plus Chiester 410) was determined to starve him to death if staking him was no longer a viable option!

Damn iiiiit!

Next time Ronove served Battler breakfast, that damn demon butler should wake him up and force him to eat the food. Sure, Ronove was only respecting Battler's beauty sleep when he left the breakfast tray by his bedside table, but whenever that happened Beelze always, always, **always **managed to sneak into Battler's room and steal it! Really, this was all Ronove's fault for being too polite to wake him up!

...Ihihihi. Battler _did_ have vague memories of sleepily telling Ronove to go die in a fire that morning, though, when Ronove had gently informed him his breakfast was ready...

...

Battler winced.

This was probably, actually, almost definitely _his _fault. But it felt better blaming Ronove, so that was what Battler intended to do.

"Argh! Cut it out, you brats! It's bad enough when Beelze steals my food, you don't need to join in, 410! Rabbits can't even eat croissants! You only eat carrots! What are you gaining from this, what are you gaining? Give it back, give it back, give it baaaack!"

"Nyeheh~ I'm gaining the honor of seeing the beautiful faces you pull in a state of despaaaair, Battler! Nihihi!"

"Yeaah, she's right! If you want your breakfast thaaaat badly you'd be trying a little harder to get it back, wouldn't you?"

"I **am **trying! What do you think I've been doing for the past ten minutes? This is getting old, stop screwing around, stop screwing with meeeee! Give me back my food, give it back! If you give it back now I might spare you the indignity of groping you to death! You don't want a pervert to defile your innocence over a piece of pastry, do you?"

"Ah, that would be a problem- yeah, that really would be a problem... if I had any innocence left to defile! Gyahahahahaha!"

"Nyeheheh~ You want to play with me, you want to play? Then maybe you should try and catch me first!~"

"D-damn it... I'm getting seriously pissed off here! Don't make me resort to acting underhanded because I will, I swear I will!"

"Oooh?~ Whatchu gonna do, Baaattler?"

"Yeah, I'm scared, I'm _really _scared, nyeheheh!"

Battler looked at the two giggling harpies coldly, hands in his pockets. He was no longer running. He didn't need to.

"What am I am going to do, you ask? Well…" He smirked. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do!"

Then, very dramatically he stabbed a finger in their direction.

"I am going to call in reinforcements! As the wife of Beatrice, the Golden Witch, and a Territory Lord, I have a right to exercise my power to deal with pests like you! Arise, Chiesters 00 and 45! Shoot these girls down! Then, I'll grope them to death afterwards, ihihihi!"

Without even a greeting, the two Chiester sisters appeared, flanking Battler on either side.

410 and Beelzebub both turned pale.

"Aaah, t-that's not fair!" Beelze shouted. "You can't call in scary reinforcements like that during a fun little game! You're a big cheating cheater and I hate you!"

"Heh~ These reinforcements are scary, are they?" asked Battler. "Then, what about this. I'll dismiss these cute bunnies... and I'll summon your big sisters instead, Beelze! I think they're be really, reeaaallly interested to know that you were the one who broke Beato's favorite tea set, even though they were the ones who were punished for it! What do you think about that, huuuh?"

"N-ngh... W-what a... dirty, underhanded trick! H-how do you know I broke it? Where's your evidence?"

"Ronove told me whenever something goes wrong in the kitchen, the most likely culprit is you! Besides, the look on your face is telling me everything! This is checkmate!"

"G-gyaah! Ronove, that damn blabbermouth… Aaaargh, I hate you, Ushiromiya Battler! I hate you! You're a horrible man, turning my own allies against me!"

"Yeah, that's right, I'm horrible, I'm really horrible! Thank you for realizing just how cruel I can be, Beato doesn't give me enough credit, ihihihi~ I was worried my credibility was going down! Now, Chiesters 00 and 45... commence the firing sequence!"

"Nyeheh! A-ah, can we talk about this, 45? Y-you don't really wanna hurt me, do you, nihihi?"

"I-I-I'm sorry, 410, b-but an order is an order! Please forgive me!"

"H-hey, don't kill me, don't kill me! I don't wanna get sewn up by that golden thread!" wailed Beelzebub.

""Uwaaaah!""

Wailing, Chiester 410 and Beelzebub clung tightly to each other; both of them trembling over their impeding doom. Perhaps they were hoping looking all hopeless like that would make Battler pity them- but, ihihi, they really didn't know Battler at all! He never pitied his foes! Not when food was involved!

"After you've messed around with me this much, I'm not going to show any pity! Useless, it's all useleeeess! Fire!"

"Roger."

"Certainly! Ah, wait, um… I-I mean, roger!"

There was a loud noise, like a gunshot. The golden thread from the Chiester's bows burst forwards like a snake. Quicker than blinking, it wound right the way around the still embracing Beelzebub and Chiester 45; tying them in place just like a ribbon wrapped round a present.

Battler walked forwards, and picked the croissant easily out of Beelze's hands.

Then, he grinned.

"I think we know who the winner is here, don't we? Hihihi~"

* * *

><p>"Ah, this croissant tastes pretty good~" said Battler happily. "I mean, it'd taste better warm, but that's besides the point. Victory sure is delicious!"<p>

Beelzebub, still tied up by the golden thread, glared at Battler sourly. Tears were budding in the corners of her eyes.

"D-don't eat that in front of me, dooon't! You really are some kind of monster! You're even worse than Milady! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aaah, go on! Keep hating me! It makes this food taste even better! Ahahaha!"

"Nyheheh... I-I've been tied up too long, my arms are going numb... W-what if they fall off?"

"You won't be able to steal my food anymore," said Battler unconcernedly, with a shrug. "You're not worthy of my sympathy. Buuut… I know two really nice and kind and pretty girls who _do _deserve a reward~"

Battler turned to look at 00 and 45, who had not yet been dismissed, and smiled at them. It was a warm smile filled with thanks.

"Heheh. You cute bunny girls aren't all that bad, are you? You're definitely some of the most helpful people in this whole place, to follow my orders without questioning me. So..." Battler broke off two pieces of croissant- and held them to the two Chiester sisters. "Here you go."

45's face turned bright red. "I-I couldn't possibly, I-I mean I-I, um, um... I-I don't deserve it!"

"Well, I'm offering it to you, so my feelings would be really hurt if you didn't accept. I want to celebrate our victory together."

"H-hauu, w-well- I-I'm sorry for hurting your feelings! A-aaah! Thank you very much for your kindness, Lord Battler!"

And with a deep bow, 45 accepted the small gift from Battler, and stuffed it into her mouth.

00 was rather more composed about accepting her gift. With a silent bow of the head, she took the piece of food, inspected it for a few moments, and then began to chew on it daintily.

Battler grinned.

Then, he reached forwards- and patted 00 on the head.

"Yeah~ You really are a nice, helpful person, aren't you? Thanks a lot."

At this, 00's face couldn't remain quite as impassive as usual- and her cheeks turned a very, very light shade of pink.

* * *

><p>"Argh! This pisses me off, it pisses me off..."<p>

Beato wailed in abject despair as the cute victory scene played out before her. She'd only started watching just to see the funny look of misery on Battler's face when he lost his breakfast and had to starve. Too bad Battler was more competent than he'd once been, and had been able to turn the tables pretty quickly.

But that wasn't why Beato was so angry. Maybe she would have clapped for Battler, amused at his success... if it hadn't been for _that_.

W-why did he have to pat her on the head?

Why did she have to **blush**?

Battler liked big-breasted blonde girls, didn't he? That was his vice! Chiester 00 fit that description perfectly!

Aaaaaah, it wasn't fair! How dare her husband flirt with somebody else? How dare he?

Beatrice was going to **kill **him.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **For the Battler/Chiester 00 request by _Vanishing Trooper__._ Sorry they don't interact all that much, ehehe...


	205. Somebody like you

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #205: Somebody like you

* * *

><p>"Man, Beato can be so horrible sometimes... I know she's my wife and all, but <em>geez<em>."

Battler sighed and collapsed onto the kitchen table; cradling his head between his arms. He was completely exhausted. He'd only just escaped from a rather heated argument, during which Beato had accused him of flirting with that cute blonde bunny girl; _'I know what you're like, Ushiromiya Battler, you hopeless pervert! You said you liked blonde, big-breasted women, riiiight? That's why you're so nice to Chiester 00 every time you see her, isn't it? If you don't like me you might as well just saaaaay; I hate cowardly men like that_!'

Maybe she had a right to worry, given how badly Battler had treated her before, back on Rokkenjima- but that was six years ago.

Battler was a lot older now, and hopefully a little wiser, and he was far too honorable to promise eternal love to a woman and then go back on it just for a pair of cute bunny ears and big boobs. Maybe that was his old man would do, but Battler wasn't like that bastard! That ring on Beato's finger meant something.

It was a promise Battler would _never _break.

Battler loved that awkward, arrogant, short-tempered witch too much to break her heart.

Besides, Beato was way cuter than Chiester 00- especially when she got flustered over small kisses and cuddles.

Battler wished she wouldn't be so violent all the time, though. He knew Beato would apologize to him later, when she'd calmed down and no longer felt like stabbing pins into a voodoo doll of him, but getting to that more honest side of her character could be such a chore.

Then again, even though he was complaining… Battler wouldn't have had it any other way.

... Beato wouldn't be _Beato _if she didn't get unreasonably angry and offended over each and every little thing. It was an integral part of their twisted relationship that they kept arguing all the time. Otherwise, it would've felt like there was something missing.

Although Battler found himself sighing in exasperation over Beato's haughty, foul-tempered demeanour at times, he loved her all the more for it.

He really did.

...But that didn't mean it didn't tire him out sometimes.

"Um... Lord Battler... Are you alright?"

Battler yawned, and managed to find enough energy to lift his head from the table.

There, standing in front of him, looking just a little nervous, was Leviathan.

Huh.

Well, of course it was Leviathan. Beato, not even in her shy states, would speak quite as timorously as that.

"Ihihi. Well, if it isn't my favorite big-boobed sister~" said Battler with a small, tired smile. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, nothing, I-I was just going to get a drink… U-um, but… I-I'm your favorite? R-really... ...?"

"Well, you're not as cruel as Lucifer... you don't tease me like Mammon... you don't steal my food every morning like Beelze... you're a little easier to talk to than Belphegor... you're not as, uh, stabby as Satan... and your hair is greener than Asmo's? Ihihi, I don't know. I'd say you're one of my favorites, if I had to pick. Oh, but, don't tell your sisters that. They'd be reaaally jealous, okay?"

"O-oh, um, okay!"

"And don't tell Beato either. She gets pissed off when I'm too nice to other women." He paused. "…And other men, for matter... And children. And my family. And sometimes even animals. And, pretty much, anybody who isn't her. Tch. What a pain. I know I'm a pervert, but I'm not _that _bad!"

"…Didn't you ask Lady Maria if you could grope her once? She's your cousin _and_ a child. Two taboos at once. How terrible."

"Yeah, but I wasn't serious! I wasn't!" Battler whined. "And I haven't started flirting with men or animals yet!"

Leviathan giggled teasingly, placing her fingers under her chin in thought. "Well, I don't know… You talk to Ronove a lot, though… And you're very friendly with the Chiester sisters!"

"A-agh, um… Don't bring that creepy butler into this. And, do the Chiester sisters count as animals? Isn't that a little rude?"

"Well, I wouldn't know if they count as bunnies or people, I'm not the one who flirts with them!~ Ahahaha!"

"Tch… I might have to retract that statement about you being my favorite sister. You're just as bad as Beato!"

"A-ah, no, I'm nice really! I-it's just, muu…" Leviathan pouted, prodding the tips of her index fingers together. "I don't get to tease my sisters very often because they always gang up on me… They say I'm slow and stupid. So, I just wanted to have fun being mean for a change… I'm sorry! D-don't hate me! I-I want to your favorite really!"

"Ihihi. If you're _reaaaally _sorry, maybe I can forgive you."

"W-well, um… A-actually, I don't think you should be too mad with Milady! I-I think it's really romantic! I-if Milady gets that jealous and possessive over you, it shows that she really loves you, doesn't it? Envy is a good measure of how deep your love is, I think!"

"…I suppose it's pretty cute~ I never knew Beato was so clingy, aah, it really is adorable~ But... hm, I don't know. I wish she'd trust me more. Getting_ too_ jealous can't be a good thing, can it?"

"No, no, no," said Levia, waving a finger in Battler's direction. "You have it aaaall wrong. You're thinking of this like a human, as usual!"

"So what would a big-boobed stake girl like yourself say about this?"

"I'd say that there can never be too much jealousy!" said Leviathan firmly. Her eyes blazed with determination. "The more jealousy you have, the stronger you are, and the stronger you are, the easier it is to slice all your rivals in love apart! That way, there won't be anybody left to be jealous of, and you'll win!"

Battler grinned. "You know, for such a cute girl, you sure say some disturbing stuff."

"D-disturbing? I… I'm not! I-I was just speaking truthfully from my heart, you're the one whose thinking is all wrong! I-I'm not disturbing at all!"

"Ihihi, s'okay, calm down. I'm used to pretty girls saying creepy things by now. Eh..." Battler yawned. "I'd pat your head, but I'm too tired to move right now. Sorry."

"U-um... you don't have to... That might annoy Milady more? I-I don't want to be cut down in the name of love…"

"Well, I don't caaare. I'm still gonna have female friends, regardless of what Beato wants. I'll just have to be extra, extra nice to her about it so she doesn't get any more upset... Ha. Maybe Kyrie was right when she said romance novels are more complicated that mystery stories. Just thinking about this is making my head hurt..."

Leviathan sighed in appreciation, cupping her face with her hands. "K-kyrie said that? Aaah, well, of course she would; she's so clever! I agree with her completely, hehe~ Aah, Kyrie is so cool..."

"Yep, she is pretty cool, isn't she? But you keep your hands off her. She's a married woman."

"I-It's not like I'm going to do anything, you know! You're the pervert, not me! I just think it's really unfair all the coolest people are always taken! W-when I think about it, I really am jealous... ..."

"Don't worry about it. You're a nice girl, the weird stuff you say aside... so I think you'll definitely find somebody who likes you at some point, a guy or a girl or whatever... I believe in you. With boobs like that, you can't lose, ihihi!"

"D-do you really think so...?"

"Sure. I bet you'll be really popular, just you wait and seeee~ Ah... ahaha..." Battler laughed; though the sound was soon punctuated by a yawn. "Man, I sound so sappy. I think I've gotten more sentimental being with Beato... Uwaaah, I'm losing my dorky, hot-blooded, perverted appeal… oh dear… …"

Battler's mumblings soon became unintelligible even to himself- and, after a few moments, they gave way to soft snoring.

It looked like arguing with Beato really had worn him out.

Hehe~ Only Battler would be silly enough to fall asleep half-way through a sentence lamenting his status as an ex-breast sommelier, put out of commission by his envious wife.

Aww, Battler even drooled when he was sleeping!

This was a sight that belonged purely to Leviathan's. None of her other sisters could see this. Leviathan would guard this image of Battler inside her maidenly heart forever! Finally, something was all hers'~

For at least a few moments, Battler's kindness had been hers', too. Leviathan had been feeling a little depressed earlier, but talking to Battler had (as it always did) cheered up.

She really did like talking to him… so she should probably thank him for being so kind- even though she was too self-conscious to thank him sincerely whilst he was awake.

She'd have to do it while he was sleeping.

The Stake of Envy summoned a blanket from her own bedroom in a haze of butterflies and gently wrapped it round Battler. As she did so, she spoke quietly to him; a light blush on her face.

"Don't worry. You're still a dork. And a pervert. And you do lots of stupid things, so you're pretty hot-blooded, too. I don't think that will ever change. But... you're a lot nicer to me than all of my sisters... So I think you're a really good person too. U-um... Milady is really lucky, you know... When I think about it, I get kind of jealous, ehehe…

"She's lucky to have somebody like you."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **And here's some more Leviathan, as requested by _Great-Gonzales_ ^_^;; I hope you like it. Ahaha it's so moe XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	206. Understanding the enemy

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #206: Understanding the enemy

* * *

><p>"Bern! Come play with me!"<p>

"No."

"Gyaaaah! S-shot down at once!"

Lambdadelta moaned in misery and stuck an overly dramatic pose to fully convey her horror. Her pose was so dramatic, in fact, it was a small wonder she was able to remain freeze-framed on the tips of her toes for so long.

Bernkastel called it a 'small wonder' because she honestly wasn't all that interested in Lamdab's excellent impersonation of a frilly, pink statue. As such, the blonde witch sighed in defeat, and reverted to her normal (significantly more comfortable) pose; hands on her hips, feet planted firmly on the floor.

"Hauu… Bern, you're so mean! You didn't even _try_ to pretend you were giving my offer some consideration that time!"

"I wasn't."

"E-eek! C-come on, Bern! You have to be a little nicer to me, or I really will die of a broken heart!"

"That's not possible."

"It's **entirely **possible!" Lambda shot back. "I love you so much, Bern, but you never ever want to play any fun games with me! If you don't start acting like you actually care, I might get paranoid and think you don't really love me, and then I'll have nothing left to live for! I'll die, I'll die, I'll really die!"

"… …_Alright_." Bernkastel snapped her book shut forcefully with a satisfying _thump_. "One, if you let yourself die over something so trivial, I would be very angry with you. And two; I don't play games against you because you always cheat."

The second part of Bernkastel's sentence went completely over Lambdadelta's head. She was too caught up on the first point.

"Haau?~ Bern really cares about me? She does? She doesn't want me to die?" Lambda cooed; hands were clasped at her front, cheeks flushed. Hearts were practically flying about her head. "Aww, that's cute, that's cute, that's so cute I- um, hey…"

And then it hit her.

She paused.

And she pouted.

"I do **not **cheat, Bern!"

"Super paper," was Bernkastel's deadpan response. "I don't remember that in the rules for rock, paper, scissors."

"Well, of course it's not in the _normal _rulebook- that's for _boring _people! Super paper was modded into **my **version of the game to make it more extreme and exciting, silly Bern! Oh ho ho ho!"

"You can't 'mod' rock, paper, scissors. It was never broken to begin with."

"No, but it was boring!"

"… …You really are an idiot."

"Why, thank you!~" Lambda smiled brightly. "Now, come and play with me Bern, come and play!"

"Hn… This is just a hypothetical question, and is no way related to whether I will agree to indulge in your childishness or not… but, if I were to play, what game would we be playing exactly?"

"Checkers!"

"Oh?" A small, dangerous smile spread across Bern's lips. "I'm surprised. The games you usually favor all involve luck; there's no skill at all. And you want to challenge me to a game that requires some form of actual intellect- primitive though it is?"

"Thaaat's right!"

"Heh… Well, I suppose you can still surprise me, even after one thousand years… Yeah. That's why I like you, Lambda." Bern grinned eerily. "I will play. But only if the loser gets a fitting punishment."

"Of course~ I like punishment games better than _anyone_. But, I promise you… that it'll take a real _miracle _to let you win. Oh ho ho!"

"As if you could ever hope to defeat me. I'll accept your challenge."

* * *

><p>"Lambda," said Bern flatly, "what is this?"<p>

"Huh, this? Why, I don't know, Watson! This looks like a case for Detective Lambdadelta Holmes!"

Taking a pair of pink-rimmed glasses from midair and placing them on the bridge of her nose (Bern always thought glasses made Lambda look eerily intelligent- not that looks counted for a lot), Lambda made a great show of inspecting the 8 x 8 black and white game board for a few moments. She surveyed the game board first from above, and then from the side, all the while muttering 'hm, very interesting' to herself, and nodding her head.

Eventually, she sat back down in her chair, and dispelled the glasses in a puff of light pink smoke.

In a serious tone of voice, Lambda said, "After conducting my investigation most thoroughly, I have come to the solid conclusion that this is, indeed…" A long pause. "A board for playing checkers! Yaaaay!" Giggle, giggle. "What else did you think it was, silly Bern?"

Bernkastel glared. "I know what the board is, you cretin. _I have eyes; I can see._"

"Ohh?~" Lambda smiled innocently. "Then were you asking, Bern?"

"I was asking, _**Lambda**_, because I seem to have a great deal fewer pieces than you."

"Oh, is that so?~"

"It is so and you know it. Even a person such as yourself should be able to count, Lambdadelta. Why do I only have _two _pieces, when you have _twelve_?"

"Hm~ Now, this _is _indeed a mystery! Should I ask the Super Cute and Pretty Detective Miss Lambdadelta Holmes for her opinion again?"

"No, I'd rather not. I'd like _you _to explain this rather _intriguing _anomaly as _yourself _for me." Bernkastel folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "I thought we were playing a normal game of checkers without any of your bizarre rules. It's hardly a fair game if you start with so many more pieces than me."

Trying to play checkers like this was akin to trying to play chess using only a king and a few knights, whilst the opponent had all their pieces intact. It was almost impossible- and it would have been foolish to even try.

Games were only fun if they started off on an even footing. If they didn't, playing them pointless, because the outcome would be tipped in the favor of somebody else.

Lambdadelta had been right. She was almost certain to win with the board set up like this. Bernkastel, intelligent though she was,_ would_ need a miracle to beat her.

"Well, yeah, I guess you're right…" said Lambda slowly, begrudgingly. "But… even if you _did _have all your pieces, Bern, this game wouldn't be fair to begin with. I'd certainly win anyway."

"Oh yes. You would be so certain to win you had to take away five sixths of my pieces, just to make quite sure."

"No, no, Bern, you don't understand! I mean, I would probably win… …because games like this aren't just about making intelligent moves, are they? They're also about _reading the opponent_."

Bernkastel rolled her eyes. "Idiot. Do you really think I'm not well-versed in the game theory myself? I hardly need _you_ to teach me about _that_."

"No, no, no!" Lambda reiterated, with a shake of her head. "You still don't _understand_, Bern! You only play games like this because you want to beat me. I play games like this because I like you and I want to spend time with you. Who do you think has the better understanding of their opponent, in a situation like that?"

"Does it matter? If you're not playing to win, then you're not playing your best, and that would make this game a waste of my time."

"Gyaah! Bern is so stubborn… How did I end up with an awkward girl like this?" Lambda muttered; slumping forwards on the tabletop in apparent defeat. "Don't you see, Bern? Games aren't about winning or losing; they're about having fun with your friends! If you get too focused on the end result you won't enjoy the process of playing. You're always thinking so hard about victory when we play together you forget that I even exist! If I wanted to have a heartless, loveless game like that, I'd play against a computer, or with Aguauau or somethin'. The objective of playing a game is to have fun with a friend; not to humiliate an enemy! You don't understand my heart at all… … You don't appreciate the time we spend together- so, even if you 'win' this game by capturing all my pieces, you could never hope to 'win' in the really sense of 'winning'! You won't fulfil the real objective of playing! So, even if you had all your pieces, you'd definitely lose! We wouldn't be evenly matched if we had the same number of pieces because our objectives are so completely different!"

There was a small silence.

Then, Bernkastel said, quite bluntly and heartlessly, "…So. Are you finished whining yet?"

Lambda winced. "I-I wasn't whining! D-did you seriously ignore what I just said? I was planning that impassioned speech for ages and ages, just to get you to understand my feelings- a-and you're just going to ignore them like that? That's mean, even for _you_…"

"No. I didn't ignore it. How could I, when you were making such a loud noise? You'll give me a headache."

"B-beeern! U-uwaaa…!"

"Oh, stop crying. It's so pitiful, seeing a powerful witch like you crying, and it's so- ah… Um, I mean…"

Bernkastel frowned, a faint glimmer of real (gasp!) _emotion _spreading across her typically cold and expressionless face. For a girl like her, who wasn't very good at talking about herself, discussing her emotions with Lambdadelta was… really difficult. It hurt her head far more than playing chess or checkers or even solving awkwardly constructed game boards and mystery novels ever could.

Maybe… that was why Bern liked that annoying girl so much.

She was the only one who tried to challenge her like this- and the only one who tried to push her out of her comfort zone.

Or, rather… she was the only person Bernkastel would ever allow to push her like that.

After a few moments, Bernkastel hesitantly reached forwards… and gently patted Lambda's blonde, ribbon-decorated head. In a softer voice than usual, Bern said, "Don't cry, you idiot. There, there. It'll be alright."

Lambda looked up at Bern in surprise; eyes wide.

"B-bern…? W-what are you-"

Becoming uncharacteristically flustered, the Witch of Miracles said sharply, "D-don't look at me like that. I-I'm just doing what you asked me to!"

Hastily, she drew her hand back from Lambda as though her fingers had been scalded; and, holding her hand protectively to her chest, she looked down at the floor.

"IYou said we weren't on an even footing because… I don't value your friendship. And I don't understand your 'heart'. But that's ridiculous. You're so stupid, Lambda," said Bern huffily. "Of course I do… … … _urgh_... _care_… about you. So you should stop being a child, and stop trying to make strange metaphorical points I doubt you understand or thought through fully yourself, and just give me all my pieces back. Just because I enjoy your company, it doesn't mean I need to talk about it _all _the time like you do; but… I still value it, you know…"

Lambda was no longer looking at Bern in surprise. She had long surpassed that turn of phrase- and was now staring at Bern in abject astonishment. Her mouth was even open, in a perfect little 'o' like a Polo mint.

It took a while for those words to fully sink in her head, stuffed full of candyfloss as it was.

But, when they did, a small, hesitant- yet completely radiant- smile spread tentatively across her lips.

"Bern! Do you really mean that?"

Bernkastel glared. "Don't make me repeat such embarrassing things again. All this hassle just to play a game of Checkers… This is _ridiculous_. _You're_ ridiculous."

"Huuh?~ Hehe. Maybe you're right. I really am ridiculous for loving a mean, cold, pricklygirl like you, aren't I?~"

"Shut up."

Lambda giggled coyly. "But, you know… what you said just now… A-aah, that was cute… I-it was really cute! And I know now you don't really mean all the horrible, nasty things you say, ehehe! So, I guess… I can give you your pieces back. Or, at least." A smile. "Some of them."

"Why only 'some'? After I forced myself to say something that embarrassing, which I would never say to anybody else, just so you would stop being so silly, I think I deserve _all _my pieces back."

"Oh, you can have them all back," said Lambda; making the missing pieces materialize upon Bern's side of the board in puffs of light pink mist. "All… except this one…"

And she smiled mischievously; holding the very last of Bern's pieces between the black, glove-clad thumb and forefinger of her right hand.

"To get the last piece back, I want something a little more tangible than a few pretty words, okay, Bern? I like it when you say nice things about me, of course I do, but maybe sometimes I want a little more than that? If you really like me, then you've gotta prove it! You've gotta prove you value me! So, can I-"

But Lambda never got to finish.

That was because Bern- who was able to read Lambda's childish, one-track mind far better than Lambda had ever imagined- had already discovered what Lambda would use as a bargaining chip.

Lambdadelta really wasn't as subtle as she thought she was. She'd been building up that last speech, hoping to reveal her final demand at the end in a shocking way… but it was no use.

Bernkastel already knew.

She wasn't an idiot.

And that was why Bern had already leant across the table, blue hair brushing a few of the pieces laid out on the checkerboard…

…and that was why she pressed her lips against Lambda's.

It was because she understood.

And, she did care.

She just wasn't very good at expressing it all the time.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **For _TheDrawingOtaku_. Um, I hope you like it ^_^;; I hope it was fluffy enough without being too OOC XD  
>Um, and to <em>Fanofgames<em>, you can send me your other request now as well, I like having lots and lots of ideas I can pick up and work from at any given time ^_^;

(i-it seems, all of a sudden, a lot of people are reading this... o / / / o Thank you so much! But it makes the pressure to right everybody IC, keep these oneshots interesting and not screw up even greater XD)

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	207. In search of Diana, part 1

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #207: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 1

* * *

><p>"Urgh, t-that really <em>is <em>disgusting!"

Willard H. Wright analyzed the scene closely and carefully, as though he were investigating a crime scene. Then, he nodded his head and opened his mouth to pass his judgement, made with the infinite wisdom and knowledge only an ex-member of the SSVD could possess.

"You're right. It is."

Lion resisted the urge to scream.

"Well, don't just stand there watching me! Why don't you try and help out for once? _Urgh_… t-this really is too much…!"

Unfortunately for Lion, Will had decided his time would be better spent, not helping his partner, but standing there doing absolutely nothing; hands thrust in his pockets, eyes speculative, still as a statue.

Or a fashion model posing for a photo.

Will had a very odd habit of making his normal stance look like he was advertising hair gel, or displaying clothes on a catwalk. Maybe it was something that had just happened naturally, given Will's celebrity status amongst his peers; a little reminder of his more devil-may-care, rebellious years.

Personally, Lion thought that silly stance of Will's looked stupid, and it made the successor worry that Will's spine would one day pop out of place, but Lion was too polite to mention that.

…More than three times a day, at least.

Will wasn't just being lazy by standing there doing nothing, though.

…Well, he technically was, but that wasn't the point.

Will couldn't stop staring. He was intrigued.

Ushiromiya Lion, the successor of the great and proud Ushiromiya family, wasn't doing anything particularly 'great' or 'proud' at that exact moment. Instead, the young successor was on kneeling on the floor of Will's kitchen, blonde hair clipped back and pink rubber gloves decorating their hands, as they frantically scrubbed at a stubborn ugly stain with a wet dishcloth.

That stain… or, no- it was more like a pool of sticky liquid Lion was trying to shift really _did _smell. Idly, Will wondered whether that awful stench had managed to reach the Great Courts of Heaven. Perhaps the girls at Eiserne Jungfrau could smell it, too.

Ahaha. That'd be kind of funny.

It was small wonder Lion had opted to put a clothes peg over their nose… even if it did make the successor look ever so slightly less successor-to-a-great-and-proud-etc-family-ish, and more… …

Ridiculous.

Lion was ridiculous in a cute, domestic kind of way, though.

Will didn't need anything to block his nose from the stench, a clothes peg or otherwise. He was used to that particular stench- although the first time it had happened, it had thrown him, too. Will knew, from first-hand experience, just how stomach-twistingly awful it was trying to clean up a mess like _that_, so even though he probably _should_ have done, he really had no desire to help Lion.

That might have been un-chivalrous, but Will didn't think so. What use was 'chivalry' in this day and age, anyway? Lion always stated gender was unimportant- so Will had no real moral obligation, on the basis of gender, to swoop in and help Lion like a handsome prince.

Lion was thoroughly opposed, on most occasions, to being 'saved'. Lion's motto seemed to be 'I can do it myself, so don't worry about me.'

Why should Will help?

He'd already cleaned up messes like that before. Lion never had.

Besides, Lion _liked _cleaning. Despite the aristocrat's complaints, and numerous expressions of disgust, Will was sure Lion was having fun really.

Um… probably.

Maybe?

"_Willard_," snapped Lion. The youth's voice was very commanding; just like Natsuhi's when she ordered the servants about. Even factoring in the clothes peg on the successor's nose, Lion sounded (and looked) rather threatening. "I would appreciate it if you would help. Diana is _your _cat, after all."

"You live with me," said Will, with a careless shrug. "You're part of the family. Diana is your cat, too."

"Yes, but Will, Diana _hates_ me. She's always hiding under the armchair in the living room, and then she jumps out and claws at my feet whenever I walk past. She still sees me as a stranger. I'm not her real owner- _you_ are. You're more qualified to clean up her various messes than I am."

Will shrugged carelessly. "Don't worry about Diana's guerrilla attacks from under the sofa. I've lived with her for five years, and she does that to me all the time."

"Yes, but in a… friendly way?"

"She scratched my arm once, and it got infected, and I was really, really ill."

"Oh well. At least Diana doesn't discriminate between friend or foe?"

"I don't actually think she has any friends. The only person she doesn't seem to loathe is Dlanor."

"Heh. I suppose that's only be expected. It's nice that your cat is just as impolite as you are."

Will frowned. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking aloud."

Lion sighed- and perhaps would have run a hand through their hair, if that weren't such a spectacularly bad idea given what they were cleaning from the floor.

"I bet that's why Diana did it," said Lion, after a small silence. "She felt like her domain was being threatened, given I keep taking those dead birds out of her basket before they start to smell, so she decided to take revenge on me by doing… _this_… all over the nice, clean kitchen floor."

"Don't take the birds away from Diana," was Will's less-than-helpful advice. "She's very protective over them."

Lion pulled a face. "I'm not leaving the decomposed corpses of month old avians in our house."

"My house."

"Ahem. I'm merely paraphrasing you from earlier. I'm part of the family, according to you, and I live here, so it's _our _house," Lion countered. "And without my input, you shouldn't want to have dead birds in here at all. I can't understand how you're so calm about this. This is a place for _humans _to live, not a cemetery for Diana's latest kills, or a… or Diana's _trophy cabinet_, for crying out loud. Those dead birds are simply _disgusting_. Why did you let Diana keep them in her basket for so long? If I dragged maggot-ridden animal carcasses into the house like that you'd throw me out."

"No I wouldn't. I think it would be… 'quirky'. Besides, there's no point discussing 'what if' anyway- it's a waste of time. You don't bring dead birds into the house, and that's the end of it."

"Well, for a detective, you certainly are close-minded…"

"Ex-detective, you mean. And, if you really want me to start sleuthing, I can tell you this much. Diana did not vomit on the kitchen floor to make your life miserable."

"And what are you basing your evidence on? Your love for your 'beloved pet' is admirable, but I think it blinds you to the fact she is a… a…" Was there a nice way of saying 'megalomaniac'?

Probably not.

It was best not to say anything, really. The last time Lion insulted Diana, the bad-tempered cat oh so kindly decided to transfer her motley collection of dead birds from the garden (where Lion had put them) to Lion's bed.

That cat was _evil_.

"Don't call Diana names. She's had a bad childhood; it's not _her _fault she acts oddly sometimes," said Will seriously, in the manner only one who was ridiculously besotted with their hideous pet could. "And I think Diana's vomit has less to do with 'revenge' and more to do with the fact the milk in our fridge is a month out of date. I only just noticed."

Lion balked. T-there was _month-old _milk in their fridge?

But _why_?

That was a question Lion constantly asked around Will; _why_? Will's answers were never very satisfactory, either.

"Some detective you are," said Lion crossly. "How did you _not _notice Diana's milk was so old before you gave it to her?"

"Dlanor brought it for me yesterday. She said she brought it as a gift… but now, I'm more inclined to believe Gertrude told her to throw the old milk out, but she didn't want to waste it. These things happen."

Well, Lion didn't blame Dlanor if she was trying to poison Diana.

If Lion wasn't so strictly against committing homicide (feline-cide? Cat-a-cide?), and Will wasn't so obviously obsessed with his pet, Lion would have done the same thing months ago. And Lion was a very patient person.

"Anyway, I threw the milk out, and I'm going to buy some fresh, so we should be fine," said Will calmly. "This isn't the first time Diana's been ill, you know. Her stomach is very delicate, and it gets upset quite a lot; especially when she doesn't get the finest food."

Lion raised a brow. "Oh, and let me guess. This is because of her 'troubled' upbringing too, isn't it?"

"Exactly."

Lion grit their teeth together, and tried to suppress a very inelegant snort.

"Oh, and… one more thing," said Will.

His voice was casual, off-hand- but it was just a little _too _off-hand to be comforting. Instead, it made Lion look up, glaring.

"What now?"

"…Well. I know, for a fact, Diana wasn't cleverly sick in the kitchen just to irritate you. Diana has, in fact, been sick in four other places in the house-"

"_Four_?"

"Including the laundry basket."

"_What?_"

"…And your bed."

Lion's face went through an interesting metamorphosis at that- flickering through a huge display of emotions at a rapid speed.

Finally, it settled on _rage_.

Pure, livid _rage_.

"Right. That is **it**. Until Diana stops vomiting on _everything_, I am **not **letting her back in the house."

"But my cat-"

"_**Our**_ cat. Half of her is mine- and I don't want my half inside the house, anywhere near the carpet or the curtains or our clothes _or my bed_. And, funnily enough, I don't think Diana is capable of existing with only _half _of her inside the house, is she, _Willard_? Unless you want to split her in two with a bread knife, I suggest we put _all _of her outside- not just my half, but yours' as well."

Will winced.

At times like this, Lion could be really scary… even to an ex-witch hunter.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **another multi-part ficlet :3 It'll be 5 or 6 parts long.


	208. In search of Diana, part 2

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #208: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 2

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Will. I… I-I really am…"<p>

Lion's words were all true. There wasn't even the slightest hint of a falsehood in the successor's voice.

Lion was too honest to lie.

Yes, it was correct that Lion _did _hate Diana. Lion hated that cat with such a burning intensity it shocked even them.

Lion wasn't used to hating anyone or anything. From Lion's childhood, the successor had been exceptionally mature, to the point where Lion even deigned to eat vegetables at the age of five, which they hadn't particularly_ liked_, but _had_ recognized as a crucial part of the human diet.

Lion was such a mild-mannered person that it was most unusual for them to feel hatred towards _anything_- much less a small, questionably cute animal with a fluffy tail and perpetually frowning face.

And yet, despite all that, and despite knowing how silly it was, Lion didn't like Diana.

Lion didn't like Diana at _all._

But that didn't matter.

It didn't matter because Will did.

Will loved her.

And so, for the sake of Will's happiness, Lion would never have been selfish enough to seriously wish for any misfortunate to fall upon that horrible cat: not when Will bought her the most expensive cuts of fish but never made any food for Lion other than instant noodles; not when Diana sat staunchly on the remote when Lion and Will were trying to watch TV so they couldn't change the channel; not even when she kindly awoke Lion by sliding into the successor's bed and scratching them.

Despite all that, and hundreds of other things besides (Will called them 'foibles', but Lion called them 'bad habits', or the mark of a furry psychopath) Lion had never wanted Diana to go missing.

But she had.

Why would Diana run away? It was true Lion had twisted Will's arm into putting her outside, a punishment she had never recieved from her doting owner (or 'slave') before, but that was hardly a reason to run, was it? Diana had everything she could ever possibly need, and Will pampered her like a princess; as though she were his real girlfriend. It was enough to make Lion feel jealous.

That stupid cat just didn't realize how much it meant to Will.

If she had known, she wouldn't have left.

Lion was sure of it.

Lion and Will had been scouring their home for the past five hours, and still there was no sign of that elusive cat. She had, quite simply, _vanished_, almost as if she had never existed at all. The only signs a cat called Diana had once occupied Will's home were the faint stains of vomit on the floor, and staining Lion's bed.

The fruitless searching didn't help matters. It only made Lion feel anxious and guilty, and Will eerily disheartened and dispirited. Thus, they decided to take a break.

That was how they ended up sat on the couch together, staring into space, both lost in thought.

Will's eyes were strangely hollow and empty, as though part of his soul had been ripped out of his chest. Meanwhile, Lion's head was ducked, face flushed with shame, and the successor was fiddling ceaselessly with the buttons on their shirt; lost in the rather unhappy thought that this was their fault.

Lion knew, factually, it wasn't- not really. The future head of the Ushiromiya family certainly had better things to do than abduct cats. Lion had never intended for this to happen.

That didn't change the fact it had, though.

"Really, Will, I'm sorry," Lion said once more, voice soft and humbled. "I know how much Diana means to you- and I never wanted her to leave, regardless of the things I say about her. I don't want- um… …?"

But Lion's voice soon trailed away into quiet nothingness.

Will… was patting Lion on the head.

Will was patting Lion as though Lion were a cat, or maybe a momentary substitute for Diana.

"Don't be a fool," said Will simply. "I know it's not your fault- and I'm not angry with you."

"B-but if I hadn't ordered that you to put Diana outside, then-"

"It's no use saying 'what if'. Constructing scenarios like that just to make yourself feel guilty isn't a productive manner to spend your time. It _did_ happen, and that's the end of it."

"Aha, I suppose… I'm not being very practical. But now you're making me feel worse."

"Don't. I already said, you didn't do anything wrong. Stop being stupid."

Lion frowned. The successor would have taken slightly more umbrage at that remark had Will not obviously been quite upset- so at least Lion was able to stop themselves from pinching Will.

Without a method to fully convey their hurt feelings, Lion could only mutter mutinously, "I'm not stupid..."

"No. I know you're not. But my sillt cat is."

Will gave Lion a very small, very rare smile- not an arrogant smirk or a false grimace of forced 'politeness', but a real smile. He rubbed Lion's head a little more roughly, making the successor flush slightly.

"Heh. It's… no problem, really. Diana's run away a couple of times before. It's just a thing she does."

"I don't know why she would," Lion muttered. "You're kinder to her than anybody else."

"Well, she's temperamental. It's not really her fault- she just had a-"

"Bad childhood, I know," Lion finished.

Will smiled a little awkwardly. "Heh, that's right. I have to be nice to Diana or she'd sit on me while I'm sleeping and suck all the air out of me."

"I thought it was only a rumor that cats did that?" asked Lion, with a small frown. "And anyway, you should be a little nicer and more thoughtful to me, too, not just your cat… or I'll pinch your butt."

"Heh. I'll think about it. Although, being 'nice' is such a pain." Will's smile became just a tiny bit wider, as he gently tugged Lion's ponytail. "I'm being nice enough now, aren't I?"

"I… guess… I thought you'd be angrier… or maybe a little more upset?"

"Well, there's nobody to be angry at, so being angry for the sake being angry would be pointless. It won't help anything," said Will, surprisingly maturely, as he shrugged his shoulders. "And, if this happened when I was alone… maybe I'd be upset. Maybe. But, I'm not alone. I still have you. So I'm trying not to feel too dispirited. If you decide to run away as well, then I'd be upset."

Lion had to make a conscious effort not to squeak as Will continued to pat their head.

Lion so frequently became annoyed at Will's lazy attitude that sometimes the youth forgot just how strangely sweet the ex-detective could sometimes be. It was always a huge surprise when Will acted kind and caring like this.

Somehow, Lion got the feeling Will wasn't very good at soft, romantic interactions, which was he rarely did it. He was probably worried he'd screw up. That was probably also why Will always opted to pat Lion's head, instead of hugging. It was how Will communicated with Diana, so it kind of carried over into his relationship with Lion. Maybe Will was worried Lion would scratch him, like Diana, if he tried to pull the youth into a hug.

But… that was fine.

It was still endearing- and it was still enough to make Lion's heart flutter slightly.

"Well, I'm glad my presence can soothe you somewhat," said Lion, folding their arms and trying not blush. "Although… you're making an effort, but you're still not acting like a complete gentleman… so I can't give you full marks. I'd say you get a six out of ten."

"Humph. For somebody like me, acting 'charming' is pretty much impossible. I can't do it, I'd just look ridiculous. And being charming is even more than impossible for me now, given my girl has just left me… Tch." Will rolled his eyes. "I think she does it on purpose, just for the attention. Maybe you were right earlier. She probably is jealous of you."

"And why would that be? You treat Diana better than me."

"Mm, yeah… but I've started to pat you on the head a lot as well," said Will pensively, still idly running a hand through Lion's golden hair. "Diana's pretty territorial. She might think I'm her husband. So she doesn't like having a stranger intrude on our beautiful relationship."

"Your relationship which involves you bending over backwards to please her, and her scratching you? If Diana was a real person, that would probably be domestic abuse…"

"She doesn't mean it when she scratches me- she's just too shy to express her feelings. She's a modern girl like that. It's become a pretty common phenomenon in TV shows and comics for girls to act cruel to the guys they like, just to hide their own embarrassment. I always though it was something like that. And now you've gotten involved in our complicated romance, so Diana was sad. And she ran away to make me feel bad. I can read her like a book."

"Ha." Lion sighed, inadvertently leaning into Will's gentle touches for comfort. "So, what are we going to do about this? I can't imagine you'd like your furry girlfriend wandering around in this universe filled with witches and demons by herself."

"You're right. I won't stand for it. And I'll tell you what I'm going to do."

A spark of challenge kindled in Will's eyes, and a smirk spread across his lips. That determined look of resolve was worlds apart from the sleepy Will Lion had grown accustomed to, who slouched about the house all day in his strangely adorable blue and white striped pajamas.

Finally, Willard H. Wright had found some motivation.

When he pulled a face like that like that, Lion could finally, truly believe that Will wasn't just a slob who sat around eating microwavable food… but he was an incredible ex-witch hunter- his name both respected and redoubtable amongst the denizens of Purgatorio and Hell.

It made Lion shiver.

"Do you really need to ask what we're going to do at this point, though, Lion?" asked Will. "Obviously, I'm the detective, and you're my Watson… and we are going to solve this case."

He grinned, giving Lion's ponytail another light tug for good measure.

"And I know _exactly _where to start hunting down clues."


	209. In search of Diana, part 3

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #209: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 3

* * *

><p>To anybody who knew Lambdadelta and Bernkastel, the scene in their bedroom would have been incredibly familiar. Bernkastel was lying on her tummy atop the pink satin sheets, head cupped by one hand as she read a book. Lambdadelta, meanwhile, was sat cross-legged beside her beautiful Bern with a heart-shaped pillow in her lap, talking incessantly and trying to capture Bern's attention.<p>

It wasn't going well.

Lambdadelta got the feeling Bern was sulking, even though she would never admit it.

Lambda didn't mind, though- Bern was just cute like that. She was the same as a stubborn little kitty. She desperately wanted to be patted, but she was too shy to say- and when people reached out their hand, she scratched them.

In reality, all Bern wanted was for somebody to cuddle her.

Aaah, girls like that were so cute~

"Hey, Beeern," Lambda whined, "you should have come with me. It was really fun."

Bernkastel didn't reply. Instead, she turned another page of her book; trying to maintain stony silence.

Well, that was too bad! If Bern was a stone then Lambda was water, and water could wash all stones away; even if those stones had formed huge, scary cliffs! It was called _attrition_, and Lambdadelta was excellent at it. She could chip away Bern's defences so subtly Bern didn't even notice until she was wrapped up nice and warm in Lambda's arms.

"Hey, _Bern_," Lambda continued, undeterred. "I know you have a _thing_ about talking to people and you're actually a really shy girl under that mean exterior, but-"

"I am _not _shy, and I do _not _have a 'thing' about talking. I can't abide fools, that's all."

Aha~

So the kitty had finally taken the bait~

"No, Bern, it was really fun! Beato and Battler weren't there- they'd gone on, like, a 'date' or something, so it was pretty cosy, just me an' the seven sisters and Ronove… Aah, but I just got an excellent idea!~ We should go on dates more often, Bern! Remember when we went to that theme park? It was fun!"

"It was too bright and too loud, the food was somehow both overpriced _and _unpalatable, and I was too short to go on any of the decent rides."

"Hm? That's not how _I _remember it. I thought we went on that rollercoaster together, but you got scared and had to hold my hand, and-"

Bern answered coldly, "Fine. Live in your happy, deluded truth about what really happened. It must be nice there."

"Yeah, it is~ You're less mean through my eyes~" said Lambda, with a giggle. "It's okay if you don't like scary rides~ You're the elegant, lady-like kind of girl, huh? Gaudy, noisy places like theme parks won't cut it. I think you'd have _far_ more fun if we went to a nice restaurant somewhere, maybe? You'd get to wear a pretty dress?"

Bern's shoulders stiffened. "And who would I want to look pretty for, exactly?"

"Why… Me, of course, silly!~ But, don't worry; I'd love you no matter what you wore! Oh ho ho!"

"Lambda…"

"In fact, I think it'd be better if you _didn't _make an effort! My Bern's so cute, if she made herself look any cuter I think another person who likes _books _and stuff might just swoop in and steal you away! Kyaaah! If that happened, I'd die! I'd really _die_! Kyuuun!"

And with that, Lambda dived forwards, ready to shower her lovely Bern with hugs and kisses-

"Have either of you seen my cat?"

"K-kyaah!"

Lambda froze; arms wrapped round Bern's middle, mouth an inch away from biting down on her ear.

She was in shock.

Evidently, she hadn't counted oncounted on a rather surly, sour-faced, completely _un-cute _ex-witch hunter appearing to ruin her fun.

Then again, nobody suspected the SSVD.

Or… an ex-SSVD member, at any rate.

There, stood in the middle of Lambda and Bern's candy-strewn bower of_ passion_, as though he'd been invited and had a _right _to be there, as though it was completely natural for a rude has-been detective to intrude upon the innocent love of two cute maidens… stood Willard H. Wright.

Oh. And that short kid, Lion.

Bern's expression twisted around most beautifully in a series of extreme emotions; most likely embarrassment, which then quickly morphed into anger. Everybody knew the nature of Bern and Lambda's relationship, but Bernkastel still found it hideously shameful that her weakness against super paper was now common knowledge.

I-it was just… really embarrassing… …

Lambda, who didn't know the meaning of 'embarrassment' (was it a type of dairy product?), wasn't bothered by Lion and Will's sudden appearance- but she _was _very much bothered when Bern oh-so-heartlessly _pushed her away_.

Bern pushed her so hard Lambda actually fell over backwards.

O-ow… T-that kind of hurt! W-what did she land on… …?

A piece of kompeito candy?

Lambda pulled herself upright, her hair now a messy disarray with half the ribbons coming loose, and threw the stupid bit of kompeito candy sourly at Will's direction. Of course, it missed.

Damn it.

And Lambda had really been getting somewhere with Bern, too!

"What do you want?" asked the candy-themed witch with a pout. "Don't drop by uninvited in a lady's bed chamber- it's _so _rude!"

Lion- whose face had turned light pink at seeing Bern and Lambda so close- muttered, "I _told _you so," under their breath, and then gave Will a stealthy pinch.

Unlike the piece of candy, this _did _score a critical hit on the rude detective.

"I'm sorry, Lady Lambdadelta… ah, Lady Bernkastel… I apologize for Will's behavior. I did try to stop him," said Lion awkwardly, with a bow.

Even though Bernkastel was no longer their opponent, it still felt very strange, being polite to a girl who had gutted Clair, cut off Will's arm and tried to feed Lion to her army of cats.

And Lion had thought Diana was bad…

At least Lion didn't have to live with Bernkastel. That would've been enough to drive anybody mad. Unless, of course, they were mad already- as Lambdadelta seemed to be (taking her strange outfit into consideration. What was the pumpkin even _for_, anyway?)

"Oh, well…" Lambda reconsidered; placing her gloved fingers under her chin in thought. "If an adorable kid like you is going to apologize to me so nicely, then I guess it'd be really mean of me to stay angry. Hehe~ Willard should just count himself lucky he has a partner like you, Lion~ I might not have helped you guys at all if you didn't make such a sweet couple! Oh ho ho ho!"

The blush on Lion's face intensified. "P-partner? Couple…? W-we're not, I mean, u-um-"

Lambda interrupted, "Aww, don't spoil it! I _like _romance stories with happy endings! I'm a naïve dreamer, okay? Indulge me! If I can't be happy with Bern, I can at least be happy for other people!"

"Ah, um… okay. And, honestly... I am very, very sorry for intruding. I can't stress that enough- even if Will hasn't yet."

Lion glared at Will.

With a small shrug, the detective muttered a small apology that didn't seem all that sincere.

Lion sighed.

"Yes, you should be sorry- and if you're not, I'll make you even sorrier," said Bernkastel coldly. "If it wouldn't make my bedroom dirty, I'd rip out your guts and dip them in strawberry jam, then serve them up on a series of expensive plates for my cute kitties."

"Yes, it would be interesting to see you try that. Especially as it worked so well the last time," said Will bluntly.

He used the same inelegant tones as always, so it was a little difficult whether Will was trying to deliberately pick a fight, or whether he was just being his ungracious self. Lion got the distinct feeling it was the latter- but Bernkastel didn't seem to know that.

Bernkastel's face contorted into an ugly expression. It was the expression of a girl who hated to lose.

"I would have ton you apart limb from limb _and _more when I had the chance, Wright! The only reason you're still alive is because of one of Auau's whims, and then Lambda's meddling! If this child hadn't interfered, my kitties would have torn you limb from limb! Don't act so cocky, you really have no right."

"Ha? You want to try and kill me properly this time? If I didn't have better things to do, I might welcome the challenge."

If Bernkastel's features had been twisted before, they were almost inhumane now. Her scowl was replaced by a wide, wide smile- like a grin painted on a gaudy carnival mask.

"W-why you... Let's see my kitties like your _other _arm then, shall we? They enjoyed the flavor so much last time, they've been restless for more! Maybe a good thing you've shown up this time, Wiiillard, they've been so, sooo hungry~ Ahahahaha!"

"I know it's a pain when cats get hungry, but I don't want to be dragged into something so troublesome. It sounds like a chore."

"A-a chore? Being spoken to like an _equal _by the 'cruellest witch' is a chore? Why don't you say that again, you-"

"No! No no no no no! Let's not fight, Bern! Not when we were having so much fun!" Lambdadelta scolded, at the exact same time Lion gave Will another pinch and hissed, "_Stop antagonizing her_," under their breath.

The respective partners of the two blondes both, strangely enough, silenced at that.

"Anyway, um… This is quite an important matter," said Lion- trying to push aside uncomfortable feelings over Bern's death threat. It didn't sound like she was joking… "Will's cat, Diana, has gone missing, and Will thought you might know where she is? Will had the idea that you might know?"

"Diana has a strange affinity for Lady Bernkastel," Will explained. "I don't understand it myself, but the last few times Diana went missing, she always wound up with that witch."

To Lion, this was just further proof Diana was actually some kind of hellish monster- but Lion chose to keep that rather extreme view quiet. It might upset Will.

"Diana? Um, it _is_ true Bern usually picks her up when she goes all cold and prickly on her boyfriend and runs away, but…" Lambda frowned. "Um… no, I don't think I've seen her lately. Have you, Bern?"

"Not since the last time she ran away." Bernkastel flipped a few strands of blue hair over her shoulder and smirked. "You really _should_ take better care of your pets, Willard. It's despicable. I'd never let any of _my _kitties go missing. Or…" Bernkastel looked Lion up and down cruelly. "Was poor Diana _jealous_, maybe, that her master had found a brand new pet? Fufufufu~"

Lion's face colored again slightly. "Pet…?"

"Oh ho ho! Isn't that kind of hypocritical, Bern?" asked Lambda. "Isn't that why _you _were acting all moody earlier?"

"I wasn't acting any different from normal."

"Oh yes you were! You were doing that thing where you pretend to read your book and ignore me, but you weren't _actually _reading because you didn't turn the pages- you were just getting angry!"

Bernkastel's expression twitched, but she was able to steady her voice; "I don't do that."

"You do, you do!" said Lambda excitably, prodding Bern in the cheek. "You were all sad because I went to see Ronove and the stake sisters today, weren't you?"

"N-not particularly… I wasn't _jealous_."

"You were! You always get moody when I visit those guys- or any of my other friends, for that matter! But, really, it's not my fault that you sit around by yourself missing me; I do invite you along all the time, you're just too shy to go!"

"I'm not _shy_."

Lion politely turned away as the two witches got themselves involved in an argument. Lion knew little spats like that were personal, and third party observers had no place to observe them.

It was a little unfortunate, then, that Will didn't think the same way. Maybe it was because of his misuse of the detective's authority on game boards when he was younger, but Will seemed to think any conversation- no matter how private- was one he, as the detective, had a right to listen to, as long as he could obtain any new clues.

It was a bad habit, and one Lion hoped to snap him out of.

Or, to be more precise, 'pinch'.

"Come on, Will," said Lion quietly, mindful of Bernkastel and Lambdadelta's argument, "I don't think we'll solve this case if we stay here. Let's-"

But Lion's calm words were soon cut off by a shriek. It was, of course, Lambdadelta.

"Wait, wait, wait! I think I might have an important clue! I might know where Diana is!"

Instantly, Will's eyes, usually filled with a hazy disinterest, blazed with intensity. He was able to keep his voice steady, however, when he said, "Where?"

"Um, well… Eheh… I will tell you- but promise you won't get mad, okay?"

"I'll try to remain professional, but when you open your clue with a 'promise you won't get mad', it doesn't bode well," said Will, frowning. "Please tell me what you know. Did you happen to do or see anything?"

"I swear I didn't _do_ anything, honestly! Don't shoot the messenger! It's just, um…" Coyly, she pushed the fingertips of her index fingers together, a thoughtful look o her face. "Well… I went to visit Ronove and the seven sisters earlier, like I said. Beato and Battler weren't there, they were on a date, and Virgilia and Gaap were out too, so it was only Ronove and the stakes… Um, but, anyway, I had a meal with them, and… u-um, well… eheh… I thought it was just a joke, but the meat _did _taste kind of weird, so-"

Will's shoulders stiffened at the mention of 'meat'. Even he, who had presided over numerous nasty cases during his years at the SSVD, couldn't help but react strongly to Lambdadelta's words. His cool, collected persona, which he had developed over the years, was being put to the ultimate test.

This case was different to all the others Will had presided over in the past.

None of those cases hadn't involved his beloved cat.

Already, Will had a rather good idea of how this tale would end, even before Lambdadelta said the fatal final words.

"Beelzebub told me that she made the main dish… … out of _cat meat_."


	210. In search of Diana, part 4

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #210: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 4

* * *

><p>The atmosphere in the kitchen was rather peaceful. Beelzebub was slumped against the table, idly peeling an orange and popping the sweet, juicy segments into her little mouth. It wasn't like Beelzebub really liked fruit or anything; she was just trying to tide over her hunger until Ronove made her some cookies.<p>

Cookies were nicer than fruit. Homemade food was always the most delicious, after all~ Oranges grew on trees all by themselves, so no love was put into them. And without love, food wasn't delicious.

Beelzebub screwed up her nose.

That was so _obvious _it went without saying, geez.

Ronove, meanwhile, was busying himself by cleaning the dishes from their previous meal. He did have vague ideas about asking Beelzebub to help- but those ideas really were_ very_ vague indeed, and they never left the planning stage. Ronove knew how dangerous it was to introduce a bored Beelzebub to breakable crockery.

It wasn't that Beelzebub _couldn't_ put plates away without breaking them. She wasn't nearly as clumsy or hopeless as she liked to pretend. However, she was cunning, and often dropped the plates on purpose, just so she would be excused from having to do any more bothersome chores.

Ronove didn't really matter, though. Doing everything himself was simpler, in the end.

The smell of washing up liquid filled the air, and rainbow bubbles and soapsuds filled the air. Ronove- gloves removed, sleeves rolled up- carefully ran all the dirty plates and cutlery under a stream of hot water by the sink; whilst Beelzebub slowly, methodically, ate her orange. Occasionally conversation passed between the pair, but they knew each other so well constant banter wasn't necessary, so the silences weren't awkward.

With a small giggle, Beelzebub really wondered if this was what marriage was like. She'd have to discuss it with Ronove, but she was sure he wouldn't mind being her wife. It wasn't like any other cute, adorable girl would consider marrying him, considering…

"Did you kill and eat my cat?"

And, in a matter of seconds, the homey atmosphere was completely destroyed- thanks to one Willard H. Wright.

Beelzebub lifted her head from the table, pushing her picked at orange aside.

Ronove turned about, drying his fingers on a towel, with a look of confusion spreading across his face.

"Excuse me…?"

"My cat," Will repeated. "Did you kill and eat it?"

"…Yes," said Ronove, after a small pause, "I thought you said that the first time- but I had to make sure."

…That was, truthfully, one of the more interesting greetings Ronove had ever received in his life. Whatever was the matter with a simple 'hello', or a good, old-fashioned 'it's nice to see you?'

It was a shame the times had to move so quickly. Now, nobody welcomed each other in a pleasant manner; and many people even rejected friendly handshakes, or kisses to the back of the hand. Sometimes, Ronove thought his own particular brand of charming gestures, good manners and small smiles was quickly becoming outdated.

Maybe he should have followed Gaap's example, and forcefully change his appearance to reflect the current fashions…

Aha, then again…

Ronove smiled to himself as he ran a quick, mental summary of all the bizarre outfits Gaap had (rather painfully, in some cases) forced her body into during the past, and shook his head.

Maybe not.

Being 'fashionable' sounded like rather too much hassle. Old-fashioned social niceties would see him through. After all, he was supposed to be a gentleman.

With that in mind, Ronove welcomed Willard H. Wright very politely; smiling, as usual, as he bowed his head.

"Well, putting all cats aside for now- this is quite a pleasant surprise. It's nice to see you, Mr. Wright… and Lion, too. I'm sure Milady would be happy to see the pair of you- that is, if she were here right now… However, you're more than welcome to stay until she returns; I can't imagine it would take too long. You could have some tea, if you wish, and we could discuss the matter of your cat then? Forgive me, but I don't particularly feel like shouting at one another from across the table."

Lion returned Ronove's smile with one of his own, glad to find another person in this world of demons and witches who understood the importance of good manners.

Will thought otherwise.

"I don't want any of your tea- not if you've made it from the blood of _my cat_."

Ronove couldn't help himself. At this… bizarre accusation, even a refined demon like himself had to frown.

"I'm afraid making tea out of blood sounds neither practical nor appetizing. Certainly, I would never do something like that. The tea I serve is comprised of the finest-"

"You can say what you want, but I'm not in the mood to make small talk. Do you know where Diana is?"

"W-will!" Lion tugged at Will's sleeve worriedly, giving the taller man a glare. "You can't be this rude to people, it's-"

"An interrogation technique. Sometimes, force is the best method to use."

"Not when you don't even know if they've actually done it or not! This is just bad manners!"

"Humph. Well, I'll soon find out whether they've done it or not if my methods can yield a truthful response, won't I?"

Lion's nose wrinkled. "I don't know… This doesn't feel like the kind of method a detective should use. You're turning this into a witch hunt instead of an interrogation."

"Oh, please. I'm not going to burn anybody at the stake."

"I'm not sure if that's comforting or-"

"I don't have any firewood."

Lion sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright, I'm not comforted at all. I thought, as a member of the SSVD-"

"Ex-member."

"Right. I thought that, being an _ex_-member of the SSVD, that you would be… slightly calmer and more respectful in these cases? Threatening the suspects until you get an answer isn't investigation or deduction at all- it's just bullying."

"Heh." Will gave a dry, humorless laugh, and ran a hand through his hair. "If you think the SSVD deal with witches and demons calmly and respectfully, you'd be grossly mistaken. I haven't drawn my sword yet. I'm being incredibly lenient. But." Will glared at Ronove and Beelzebub. "I believe I have _every _right to be angry in this case, given they might have _killed _Diana. Then again, I've seen some very nasty mysteries in my time involving people like this. If my years of experience has taught me anything, it's that demons shouldn't be trusted, no matter how they try to hide their true nature."

Ronove winced. "Ahaha… I realize we demons do have a rather bad reputation, but on the whole, it's entirely unfounded. I hoped a rational person such as yourself wouldn't have any such prejudices or-"

"Oh, _be quiet_. If you're trying to stall for time to create an alibi, it won't work. I'll be able to see right through it."

"_Willard_, calm down, _please_. Stop being so antagonistic. This can't be the best method to get information!"

"Lady Lambdadelta said there something very strange about the meat you served her earlier," Will continued, paying Lion's rationale no heed. "Apparently, Miss Beelzebub claimed that it was made from… a cat."

"Ah, well… It is true that Miss Beelzebub made the main meal, but she assured me it was chicken. Miss Beelzebub does tell jokes from time to time, but I can't imagine she would do anything as… strange… as murdering your cat and serving it to myself, her other sisters and Lady Lambdadelta. I do have some degree of faith in her."

"Oh yeah? Well, _I _don't."

"Will, please, why don't we just-"

"Don't 'Will, please' me; not right now. Look, Lion. Look at her," said Will coldly. "If she's so trustworthy, then why is she _laughing_?"

Will's yellow, cat-like eyes focused on Beelzebub- and soon, both Ronove and Lion followed his gaze.

Will was right.

Beelzebub had been trying to stifle it by biting on her fist- but she was one of the youngest sisters, and she didn't really have the proper willpower to remain all calm and poker-faced like Ronove.

She couldn't help it.

It was all Will's fault.

That slanty-eyed look he got when he was really, really pissed off was kind of sort of _incredibly hilarious_.

Beelzebub sniggered like a little kid; blonde curls bouncing, shoulders shaking. She tried to compose herself, she really did, but…

"Pffft… gyahahaha!"

…that look.

On Will's _face_.

That **look**.

It made him look just like a bad-tempered cat!

"Gyahahahahahaha!~ Ah, fine, fine," cackled Beelzebub unpleasantly, wiping her eyes with one red sleeve. "Okay, I'll talk. I've always wanted to be interrogated by a detective before; it sounds like fun! Luci's always the one everybody talks to, being the 'representative of the Seven Sisters of Purgatory', but I want a chance to shine too! You can ask me whatever you like! Gyahahahahaha!~"

"Miss Beelzebub…" said Ronove, voice slightly incredulous, "you didn't really murder a cat, did you? Please don't lie; it's… quite unbecoming- and _incredibly _unhelpful in a situation like this."

"Um, well…~ I'm not sure, ufufu~ I mean…" She raised her hands to her front and curled her fingers over, like paws. "The thing I staked to death had cute ears and a fluffy tail, and it went 'nyan nyan!', soooo…" Giggle, giggle. "Unless there's another species of animal that's been invented that _looks_ like a cat, but isn't a cat, I'd say the thing I staked was definitely a cat!~ What do you think about my reasoning, Will? You're the detective aren't yooou, how high do you think the chances are that I murdered a cat in that situation?

"The cat was white and fluffy too, with a kind of grumpy look- so I thought it might be happier with a stake through its stomach instead of traversing this miserable world by itself! I was doing it a favor, you seeeee? Oh, and I was hungry- so everything worked out!~

"Oh, but your cat is white and fluffy too, huh? What do you think the chances are that I killed Diana, what do you think? Ahahaha!~"

A horrible, crushing silence filled the room; broken only by the sound of Beelze's laughter, and Will's heavy breathing.

If Will had looked angry before, he was positively _livid _now.

Will was a lazy person at the best of times; preferring to lounge around on the couch and watch reruns of cookery programs rather than do anything remotely productive. However, he _had _been called Wizard-Hunting Wright for a reason- and when he got fired up, he was good at his job.

_Incredibly _good.

Beelzebub and Ronove might not necessarily have been witches, but the blonde stake had a laugh that sure fitted one- and Will had always believed in equality. If the furniture of a witch got in his way, he'd cut them down, too; and, in a situation like this, he'd do it faster than blinking.

Will might have believed in the 'heart' of mysteries- but this was a mystery story with no heart at all.

Beelzebub had _killed _Diana.

Diana had been Will's partner for five years; hell, she was almost his **girlfriend**, even if she did have that tendency of tearing up the couch, or trying to trip him up when he went downstairs. When Will was feeling maudlin, it was Diana he'd curl up to; and sometimes, Diana even allowed him pet her without scratching him, when she sensed he was feeling really and truly miserable.

Diana was one of Will's best friends- and one of the few creatures Will felt truly comfortable with.

And Beelzebub had _killed _her.

Beelzebub had **eaten** her.

Beelzebub had **eaten** Will's soul mate and his _girlfriend._

Where was the heart in that?

Will couldn't look at this objectively; he couldn't at all. His laziness had been thrown off in a fit of white-hot rage- and, unlike his confrontation with Bernkastel when her kitties had torn his arm off, Will didn't even try to channel that anger into witticisms or raised brows or smirks. Will had been trying to protect Lion then, and there had still been a chance he could succeed- so he didn't give himself into his own fury.

It was different now, though.

Will didn't have anybody to protect now, because Diana was already dead.

And, that blonde stake…

She was _still laughing._

If Lion hadn't been holding Will back, pleading with him, Will might have throttled her, 'chivalry' be damned. It didn't matter that Beelzebub was a girl- Will would treat her in exactly the same way as he would treat a man, damn it, damn it, damn it-

"Will, please, calm down! I-I know you're angry, but violence doesn't solve anything!"

"I agree with those sentiments," said Ronove quietly, clapping a gloved hand over Beelzebub's mouth. "Miss Beelzebub, please don't laugh; you're only making matters worse."

"That's right- though, um… even if Miss Beelzebub did… kill a cat… and eat it… it's not certain that she killed Diana- even if they did look similar," said Lion frantically- trying, alongside Ronove, to displace the thick tension in the kitchen. "She might have killed another cat? Miss Beelzebub, can you tell me any other distinguishing features about that cat?"

Tentatively, Ronove drew a hand away, allowing Beelzebub to talk. Her giggles had now subsided- but that incredibly cruel smile hadn't.

"Oh, well, _III_ don't know~ I can't remember! I know I killed it 'cause it was chubby, though. I was like, 'yeah, we'll get a lot of meat out of this!' Ahaha! I've always wanted to eat a cat before! I thought everybody else might want to share the experience with me."

If Will grit his teeth together. If he'd used any more strength, they would have shattered- or been driven so deeply back into the gums they'd start bleeding.

"Oh! But, the cat didn't have a collar," Beelzebub suddenly said, in the manner of one who'd just remembered something. "I remember that. And I imagine a pet owner as careful as you, Mr. Wriiight, would keep a collar on your much-beloved pet, yes? If you didn't, why, you should expect something like this would happen one day! Gyahaha!~"

As soon as Beelzebub said this, Lion knew it was a lost cause. It was impossible to keep Will in his place.

Diana didn't have a collar. Will had bought her one, of course, but a finicky cat like Diana, who refused to sleep on the floor and insisted on consuming only the best fish filets, would never wear something so degrading as a collar.

So, Diana had no collar.

And Diana matched the description Beelzebub had given perfectly.

Maybe it was true, then.

Maybe Beelzebub… really _had _killed Diana.

That seemed to be the only option. At least, it was in Will's eyes. His love for his deceased pet had taken over the rational side of his brain entirely. No longer was he Wizard Hunting Wright, the detective who cared about the heart of mystery stories.

He was a pet owner who was having some kind of break down.

In the end, it wasn't all that surprising when, with a loud roar, Will pushed past Lion-

"Mr. Wright, please calm down and- aaa… … o-ow…"

-and punched Ronove square in the face.

Will had been going to hit Beelzebub- but Ronove, ever the gentleman (even in a dangerous situation like this), had pushed Beelzebub aside just in time. He intercepted the blow for her; but Will's fist ploughed into him so suddenly he didn't have the time to even try and create a defensive barrier.

It was clear, from the horrible crunch that split through the air, that Ronove's nose was broken. And if that ghastly sound didn't make it obvious enough, the drops of blood that speckled Willard's fist did.

Wincing in obvious pain, Ronove doubled over, and pressed his hand against his nose; trying to staunch the flow of blood. The blood morphed into red rose petals as it fell between his fingers- but it still wasn't stopping.

Beelzebub, being a wily girl, had already disappeared.

The only people left in the kitchen were Ronove (bleeding profusely and moaning in pain); Will (breathing heavily; eyes filled with malice) and Lion (quite confused, very apologetic, and unsure of what side to take).

But, there was nothing else Will could do.

Beelzebub had vanished- and punching Ronove to death wouldn't bring Diana back from the dead; no matter how much he wished it.

It… was impossible.

At least, that was what Lion, voice consoling and gentle, tried to tell him. And Lion's words really were an excellent calming influence on Will.

He still had Lion.

He'd have to keep a careful eye on the golden-haired youth from now on- just to make sure Beelzebub didn't catch him and put him in a pudding for desert.

"Come on, Will…" said Lion, tugging on Will's arm. "Let's go. Please…? I really don't want to start an argument, this is pointless… Let's leave it."

And Will, despite being very stubborn and childish when he wanted to be… really couldn't argue against that.


	211. In search of Diana, part 5

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #211: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 5

* * *

><p>"Oh, wow. Will really fucked you up, didn't he?"<p>

"That… is a rather unpleasant term. But I suppose it's vaguely fitting…"

"Yeuuup," said Beelzebub, popping the 'p' as though it were chewing gum. Then, with a small grin, she said, "I bet that hurts, doesn't it?"

Ronove winced. "I believe a more typical response in this situation would be… _ow_… … something like 'are you alright', perhaps?"

"Pffft. Yeah, but it's obvious you're _not _alright. I mean, he broke your friggin' _nose_. And, even worse than that- he's kinda broken your character, too. What's the point in asking how you are? The obvious answer is gonna be 'dreadful'."

"Hm, I'm not sure. Saying 'I bet that hurts' sounds just a little sadistic… ahaha~"

Ronove laughed tiredly, with none of his usual elegance. However, given the situation he was in, that was only to be expected. It would've been stranger if that punch to the face _hadn't_ put a huge dint, not only in his nose, but also in his typical smiling façade.

Thankfully, witches' furniture was used to be being abused in such manners, so sustaining injuries like that was something he was accustomed to. The wounds from magical fights were typically far, far worse than broken noses. Ronove counted himself lucky Will no longer had the authorization by the great courts of heaven to use his black sword or twenty wedges, or he might have been dead.

A broken nose was a decent trade off for a coffin, really.

All that blood and mucus really was quite embarrassing, though… and resetting it with his own fingers _had_ hurt horribly.

Beelzebub's high-pitched voice wasn't really helping his headache, either.

_O-ow…_

"You do realize, don't you, that… T-that I'm only in this state because of you?"

"Yeah, of course I do!~" said Beelzebub brightly. "I'm really grateful! Really, truly grateful! Though, maybe I shouldn't be. It's only natural you should protect me, after all~"

"Oh? And why's that?"

Beelzebub smiled sweetly and struck a pose; one hand under her chin, gazing dreamily off into the distance. If she'd been an illustration in a shoujo manga, her eyes would have sparkled; filled with stars.

It was a shame, then, that her cruel words didn't really match her cute appearance.

"Come oooon, it's obvious~ Did Will's punch screw up your eyesight as well as your nose? Look at me! I mean, I'm a cute, adorable young girl! If my beautiful face was broken, it would ruin my chances of getting married! They'd go _waaaay _down. But you're not nearly as pretty as me so it's okay if you get horribly disfigured. A guy like you should sacrifice his looks for a cute girl like me, you see? That's the way it should be!~"

"… …No, I'm afraid I don't really see," said Ronove, after a small pause. He sighed. "Of course, defending you was the proper thing to do… but, I can't help but feel you haven't really learnt anything from this at all."

"Well, that's where you're 100% _wrong_! I have learnt something, I have!"

"Oh really?"

"Yes! I've learnt that, if I feel like indulging in some more exotic cuisine, I should make sure the cats I kill are homeless next time!"

"Ah, well… that's not _quite _what I hoped you would understand?"

"No? Well, let's try this. What about, 'no matter what stupid stuff I do, you'll jump to my defence 'cause you're nice like that, so I can do whatever I want!'" Beelzebub smiled proudly, hands on hips. "Is that a good message to learn?"

Ronove blinked at Beelzebub slowly. For a few moments, the blonde stake worried that Ronove really _was_ angry with her. That would have been quite a strange experience. Beelzebub had never, ever seen Ronove lose his temper before.

Then again, she'd never seen anybody successfully punch him in the face, so there was a first time for everything.

But… when Ronove next spoke, his voice wasn't sharp at all; it was soft- and, he was even smiling.

Just a little.

It was difficult to smile given all the pain he was in; but he was trying, all the same.

"That's not the correct moral either… but at this point, I'll have to assume you're joking. I can't imagine you're serious when you say cruel things like that."

"Well… hehe~ Maybe you're right. I mean…" Beelzebub reconsidered, placing her fingers under her chin in thought. "I guess… I wouldn't_ really_ want you get hurt. I mean, if it was a choice between you being punched in the face or me, I'd still want you to get punched, _obviously_, but I'd prefer it in the end if nobody got punched at all."

"Thank you. I suppose I'll accept your apology."

"I didn't know it was an apology?"

"For my own peace of mind, I will count it as one."

"Aaha~ But, still… I didn't think Will would really _hit _you. He was, like, famed for being a really nice guy, as far as witch hunters go?"

"Indeed… but I suppose Willard's anger wasn't entirely unprecedented. I didn't think you would really murder his cat and… eat it… Oh dear."

Ronove winced again; not from pain- but more out of embarrassment.

Ronove and Virgilia took great care to act as guardians for the noisy, naughty seven sisters, so Beelzebub's slaughter of an innocent feline really didn't reflect that well on Ronove's parenting skills.

He'd never really been Beelze's 'parent', though. Their relationship was a lot different.

She was more like a little sister, or a good friend.

"Hey, cheer up. It's not your fault I do weird things!"

"So… you really _did _kill and eat that cat?"

Beelzebub nodded, blonde drills bouncing. "I really, really did! That wasn't a joke. I staked it a couple of times with the intent to turn it into-"

"It's fine. You don't need to go into the gory details. But… I suppose I could look on the bright side. At least I didn't get punched for something that never happened."

There was a small pause.

Then, Beelzebub began to giggle again- though, unlike the last time, it wasn't loud or brazen. Instead, it was… almost sheepish… as though she had finally realized she had done something wrong?

No, of course she hadn't. That would be too optimistic.

"Well, actually, about that… I don't know how to break this to you, but-"

Instantly, Ronove's very small, awkward smile froze.

"Miss Beelzebub… What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"Ahaha! Um… Well, it _is_ true I killed a cat, yes, but, umu…" She smiled, anxiously pressing the tips of her fingers together; then she rotated them in small circular motions; then she began to coil her blonde princess curls about one finger. "Ehehe, well… I did kill a cat, but I don't think the cat was Diana. In fact, I'm pretty sure it wasn't."

"Oh. Well."

There was small silence.

Then;

"…_What_?"

* * *

><p>Lion was anxious- and when Lion was anxious, Lion cleaned.<p>

It was a strange habit the Lion had possessed since an early age; but whenever things became too much for the youth to handle, Lion tried to forcefully inject some order into their life by arranging everything neatly, in a very precise and _just so_ manner.

It calmed the nerves.

Thankfully, given Will's house remained akin to a junk yard regardless of how hard Lion cleaned, Lion was assured there were always areas to tidy up.

That meant, whenever Lion was stressed, there was always some outlet to pour it into.

Lion might have complained to Will bitterly about the state of his house… but in the end, maybe it was a positive thing it was so untidy. When Lion had become stressed back on Rokkenjima it had been difficult to vent, given the servants ensured everything was tidy.

It wasn't like Lion would admit this to Will, though.

If Will knew about Lion's secret fondness for cleaning, the grumpy ex-detective would grow even lazier. Then, Lion really _would _have to do everything.

And yet…

At that moment, Lion felt far too sympathetic towards Will to be angry with him.

After learning about the dreadful truth of Diana's demise, Will had become incredibly lethargic and laconic; more so than usual. When Will had seen the vomit stain on the kitchen floor, a reminder of Diana, he had held his hand to his heart as though it had been broken.

Following that, the 'great detective' had decided the best thing to do in this situation was curl up on the couch in his pajamas, eat ice-cream and cookies and any other amount of fattening food, and be as miserable as humanely possible. He didn't cry, but the pale, drawn look on his face was enough to encourage Lion that Will's soul might actually have _died_.

Will wasn't even watching the TV. He just stared at the blank, empty screen, whilst shovelling spoonfuls of melted ice-cream into his mouth.

He wasn't doing anything at all other than eating and wallowing in his own misery. It wasn't a good combination.

For one, his depression had shot his hand-eye coordination to hell, meaning the couch was now sticky and covered in ice-cream and cookie crumbs.

For another… Will was just making himself feel awful.

If his misery could be likened to a well, then Will, at that moment, was a small frog lying at the bottom, who had given up trying to escape.

Lion didn't want Will, who normally acted so cool and unaffected by almost _everything_, to have a mental breakdown. Lion might have been mature and responsible, but the successor had no idea what they would do in a situation like that.

Lion just wanted to make Will feel better… but the youth didn't know if they could.

Lion's words couldn't reach Will.

When the young Ushiromiya had spoken to Will earlier, Will's words- indistinct through a mouthful of half-chewed junk food- had been, 'Talk to me later, when I feel like I can interact with other humans.' Or words to that effect. Mainly, it had been grunting, but Lion still caught the gist of it.

Will was mourning, and he wanted to be left alone.

He was acting like it was his father or mother, or lifelong partner, who had been killed and eaten instead of his pet- although, when Lion thought about it… maybe that was exactly what had happened.

Diana was like Will's family.

Lion had never heard Will mention anything about having parents, or brothers and sisters, or even any real past girlfriends. Maybe Diana was all Will had.

Even if she was bad-tempered and grumpy and always scratched the furniture…

Even then, Will still loved her.

He doted on her.

So losing her… must have been quite a blow.

Lion wished there was something they could do to help, but-

_Squish._

"Urgh, what…?"

Lion looked down in disgust. The youth, lost in thought, had completely failed to notice… that they had just set their foot into that puddle of vomit they had been trying to clean.

Now, Lion's socks were all wet and sticky- just like the couch was, thanks to Will's continuing efforts to miss his mouth with the gooey spoon piled up with rather too much ice-cream.

The successor winced in disgust and slowly peeled their spoiled socks from their feet. Balling them up, Lion placed them to one side, and then went to their sock drawer.

Lion needed new socks.

They were a necessity if Lion was going to continue cleaning.

Lion did _not _want to wander around a house filled with the vomit of a missing cat- that was just asking for trouble. Lion was too practical to shuffle around with toes bare, unlike Will.

So, because it was only normal Lion would want fresh socks, Lion went upstairs to their bedroom. Within a matter of moments, they found themselves stood by the sock drawer.

Then, they opened it.

It was a very banal, daily activity that shouldn't have warranted so much description- and yet, ultimately, it did.

The everyday experience of getting new socks was, for Lion… changed completely.

It was changed into something _bizarre._

Lion _stared_.

The sock drawer stared back.

Then… it started to purr.

Or, to be more precise… it was the fat, white, fluffy creature, with ears and whiskers and a tail _inside _the sock drawer that started to purr.

And that animal was, unmistakably-

"_Diana_?"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This was going to be the last part. It's not anymore because it got long. The next bit is the last one ^_^;;


	212. In search of Diana, part 6

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #212: Thirty thousand leagues in search of Diana, part 6

* * *

><p>"Aaah, um, don't get mad!" said Beelzebub, waving her hands in Ronove's direction- imploring him to remain calm. She didn't really know how flapping her arms would help her achieve this aim, but she still did it all the same. Who knew- maybe she'd knock him out or something? Then he wouldn't be able to get angry, right?<p>

"I-It's just, I was really happy when Will started to interrogate us, 'cause people never pay attention to me- they only pay attention to Luci, 'cause she's the oldest, so I get shoved to one side! It's because of my background that I act like I act, you know? It's not my fault I just want a little attention! And, because it felt really nice when a hot guy like that was talking to me, and showing an interest in _me_ I just, I dunno… I did kill a cat, okay, but it wasn't white or fluffy and it wasn't Diana. I… I made that all up… just so Will would keep paying attention to me! Ahahaha! U-um, so... Well, your nose didn't get broken for **no reason**, okay, that's going too far! It got broken to help heal the heart of a poor, underappreciated fair maiden like myself, who really wanted to capture the attention of a handsome prince! You're into that kind of stuff, right? You understand, don't you? My pure, maidenly heart just wanted to have a few more moments with Will, that's all! Kyakyakya! Um, no hard feelings? Don't be angry.

"I am… … sorry. Hehe~"

And, with a small smile a lot more sincere than her manic grins or twisted smirks… Beelzebub pulled Ronove into a tentative hug.

It took a few moments before, sighing, Ronove relented- and returned Beelzebub's hug.

"It's alright, Miss Beelzebub. I do understand your feelings somewhat," he said tiredly. "But you don't need to lie to make people take heed of you. After all, I always talk to you."

Beelzebub smiled brightly. "Hehe~ That's right. I can't believe I neglected my lovely wife for a short fling with Willard H. Wright which- ultimately, went nowhere, and was doomed right from the start! Aaah, I was so silly! There, there, don't cry~ Om nom nom~"

"What are you doing?"

Beelzebub giggled through a mouthful of Ronove's hair, which she had been idly chomping on for no real reason whatsoever.

She probably didn't know the reason behind that herself.

Maybe it was because she so obsessed with food she had a subconscious compulsion to constantly chew on things.

All Beelzebub knew was that;

"M'nomming on my waifu~"

Ronove laughed softly, and rolled his eyes.

"Alright then. But you better get used to eating sub-standard 'food' like this. I'm certainly not making you cookies anymore."

"E-eh? No way!"

Beelze's eyes widened in shock- and she spat out the bit of Ronove's hair she'd been chewing in disgust.

"B-but I did nothing wrong! Nothing except entertain pure-hearted dreams about being noticed by a handsome man for once!"

"…Yes, but I believe you have been woefully misinformed when it comes to flirting. Most people dislike it when you claim to have murdered their pets. And you can't deny the fact you did kill a cat to begin with… I certainly can't _not _punish you… it might encourage you to do it again."

"Aaah! Fine, fine! Whatever! Do whatever you want! I'll survive, I know I can make it through! I don't even need your help! I don't need you at aaaall! Then you'll be sorry, kyakyakya om nom nom~"

And with that, Beelzebub began to chew on Ronove's hair again.

* * *

><p>"Hn? What do you want?"<p>

It was a sign of just how miserable Will was that he didn't even bother to turn his head when addressing Lion.

The young Ushiromiya had scolded Will time and time again for not looking at the person he was speaking to in the eye; for Lion was a stickler for good manners, and found it incredibly rude.

To help this life lesson sink in, the youth had always accompanied it with a sharp pinch.

Thanks to Lion's tutelage, Will was slowly but surely becoming _slightly _more presentable to society in general. The Pavlovian reaction Will had developed, expecting pain every time he did something that could be construed as impolite, probably helped as well.

But at that moment, the threat of pain had no impact on Will's manners.

He was too depressed to care.

Curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped round him like a cloak, attired in his pajamas and chomping on a packet of oven fries, Will hardly looked like the detective he had once been.

Worryingly enough, Will was beginning to fit the common stereotype perpetuated in romance movies of a girl, heartbroken over a flat-out refusal by their love, trying to eat themselves into a sweet and sugary death.

Although, now that Lion looked at those oven fries more closely…

T-they didn't look very appetizing.

Lion wouldn't have eaten those for all the tea in China.

Oven fries were terrible enough as it was, being so greasy and fattening, but when they'd been prepared like _that_- or, no… rather, they hadn't been prepared _at all._

Those oven fries didn't look safe to eat.

Not like _that_.

Lion's brows rose in surprise, until they went underneath the youth's hairline; hidden completely, to give them a look of blank shock.

"Will, did you even warm those up?" asked Lion softly. Their voice filled, not with exasperation and disgust (as it typically would've been in a situation like this), but concern. "They look a little… inedible. And disgusting. And… frozen...?"

"Hngh."

Will gave a small, noncommittal grunt and looked down at the box of food in his hands.

True to Lion's words, the fries inside… really were frozen. They were beginning to a thaw a little, thanks to the heat of Will's hands as he held tightly to the box for dear life, but that did nothing to make the pale, uncooked strips of potato look any more appetizing. Now, they were lukewarm and soggy, instead of cold and hard.

But Will was too melancholy (or too damn lazy) to care.

He shrugged.

"I like them that way."

"…You like eating frozen food?"

"I'm really not that picky."

And with that, Will picked up three of the half-frozen half-not fries in one hand, and shoved them into his mouth. He chewed down on them joylessly; obviously not tasting what he was eating. Maybe his gag reflex had been momentarily switched off by grief. Lion knew Will ate a lot of awful food, most of it microwavable rubbish, but at least Will- bone idle though he was- usually took a few minutes to _actually microwave it _before he started to dig in.

Will was going to be very, very sick tomorrow when his stomach had a chance to process all that.

Lion shuddered.

"You know, I don't think eating those is a good idea, Willard…"

"It's _excellent _idea. Best one I've had."

Chomp, chomp.

Alright, now Lion really _was _beginning to feel really sick.

"Stop eating the frozen fries."

"I _want _to eat them."

"Don't be so childish."

"I'm not hurting anyone."

"You're hurting yourself. _Stop _it, you'll be sick!"

"Don't want to stop."

"Then you'll make _me _be sick. Have some common sense!"

Will continued to mope and eat, his faint protests distorted by the half-chewed food in his mouth. Talking with the mouth open wasn't the epitome of good manners, but then again... nothing about Will really was.

"I'm grieving- be nice to me."

"I don't care if you're grieving- I don't want you getting _food poisoning _on top of it."

"_Willard H. Wright._"

Will didn't have the energy to argue back against that kind of voice. He was too tired; completely exhausted.

Will looked exhausted, as well. His hair was sticking up on end; crumbs were sprinkled across his clothes; and his skin was several shades paler than it should have been. He didn't have enough energy to deal with an irritated Ushiromiya Lion- who had been powered up about twelve levels owing to their worry about his health.

Then again, Will _never _had enough energy to deal with Lion.

He was fighting a losing battle.

When Lion snatched the box of oven fries away (grimacing at how wet it was) Will tried to claim them back only half-heartedly. When Lion batted his hands away, he cowered; retreating under his warm cocoon of cosy blankets.

"You're not being fair," Will mumbled childishly, through a mouthful of half-frozen food he couldn't quite bring himself to swallow. "Can't you see I'm incredibly depressed?"

"Yes. I can see that perfectly fine, judging from your appearance… and the fact half the food in the fridge is missing. But, _Will_," said Lion imploringly, "this really isn't going to help _anything_."

"I know it won't help. I'm aware of that. Depression doesn't _make _sense; that's why people who do get depressed always get called crazy," said Will darkly.

Lion looked at Will in surprise. Was Will speaking from personal experience?

"…It's related to a case," was Will's clarification, as he noticed Lion's worry. "The culprit committed the crimes out of depression- and everybody vilified them as a… as a demon or something, without considering their feelings that led them to their actions. It pissed me off. But you don't need to think about it; you'll just get a headache."

It was always strange when that softer side of Will's character shone through his gruff exterior. It made Lion remember why they cared so deeply for Will at all, despite his bad manners and poor attitude.

Despite all that… Will had a pretty big heart of his own, didn't he?

That was why he was so upset.

"I… realize how complex grief is, and I'm sorry," said Lion quietly, "but still… haven't you considered…"

There was a small pause.

Lion looked at Will.

Will stared back at Lion.

Then… a small, tentative smile broke across Lion's face.

It was a bright, caring smile… that was warm enough to drag even Will out of his misery- even if it was only for a few moments.

"Maybe… there's no reason for you to grieve at all. I think we were mistaken all along. We were convinced she an away, but maybe… she crept back inside the house without us knowing… and curled up somewhere to sleep?

"In other words… I found Diana, Will.

"I found her in my sock drawer.

"That's what I was going to tell you."

And with that, Lion stepped neatly to one side-

"Mreow?~"

-to reveal Diana.

She was sitting behind Lion as though she had never gone missing at all.

When Will stared at her in shock, she seemed to roll her eyes; almost as if she was insulting his intelligence for being so worried about her whereabouts.

Did you really think a majestic cat such as myself, she appeared to say in her aloof purr, would get captured by an uncouth girl like Beelzebub? And you call yourself a detective of the highest calibre? Have some shame. And learn to think better of me next time.

Will's eyes widened to an impossible size.

Slowly, tremulously, he pinched his arm.

Nothing.

He pinched it again.

Still nothing.

The world didn't waver. The walls didn't run. The ground didn't collapse underneath him.

He didn't wake up.

But, just to be sure…

"L-lion, would you-"

"Ahaha~ Of course."

With a small laugh, the youth reached forwards, more than happy to see Will's unspoken demand through. After all, Lion still needed to punish Will for worrying them so much; what with his binge eating… not to mention the frozen fries…

So Lion's pinch, whilst filled with love and compassion, was very forceful.

It must have hurt a lot.

It must've done, or Will wouldn't have let out a strangled moan of pain like that; "A-aargh… D-damn it…!"

And still, the world did not collapse in on itself.

This was not a dream.

It wasn't a delusion.

That was the concrete proof.

This was… real.

Diana was… really safe.

"Thank God…"

Will's expression was still confused, completely disoriented, and tinged with a little pain from Lion's assault on his behind- but, despite that, despite all that… he was smiling.

For the first time in a very long time, Willard H. Wright was _truly _smiling.

Even Diana seemed to recognize the sentimentality of this moment. When Will scooped her up into his arms in a tight hug, for once, she didn't try and scratch him. Instead, she mewed in queenly assent that her subject _could _shower affection on her just this once, and nuzzled her head against Will's cheek.

"Thank God… Ahaha, I was… such an idiot- not to notice... that Diana was here all along. And I'm meant to be a detective. Tch. How embarrassing… I must look so stupid right now."

"Heh. No stupider than usual~"

"…Thanks. Lion… Really, thanks. You made a pretty good Watson- and you even solved this case. So, ahaha…" Will's smile grew slightly awkward. He wasn't very good at being sentimental towards creatures who didn't travel on four legs- but he'd give it his best. "I guess you deserve a reward, too. Come here."

Lion obliged… and soon found themselves pulled into a warm hug. It was a little awkward, given Will was using one arm to hold Diana to his chest and the other to embrace the young Ushiromiya; a complicated juggling act indeed. Diana soon became a irritated at this sugary sweet family atmosphere and tried to claw at Will's face… but that didn't change how strangely, bizarrely _right _the whole scene felt.

If somebody had taken a photo of it, they could have put it in a frame and displayed it on Will's wall, with the hideously sappy but definitely suitable caption of 'Will's family' emblazoned underneath.

"You do know what this means, though, don't you?" said Lion firmly, pinching Will in the side gently.

"What? I need to stop eating frozen food?" Will winced. "Urgh… that stuff tastes _awful_- why didn't I stop eating?"

"I think you were too sad to stop. But, more importantly…" Lion's eyes narrowed. "I think we need to write that demon you punched in the face an apology."

* * *

><p>One, two, three, four, five, six…<p>

There were only six.

Maybe she would try again.

One, two, three, four, five, six counting the one in Dlanor's arms and…

She'd been right the first time.

It had been pointless to count again.

There were still only six.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get six to equal seven. That was because it was impossible. No matter where you resided, whether it was Heaven or Hell or Purgatorio, six would always be six and seven would always be seven.

There were only six cats.

She was missing one.

And, no matter where she looked, she couldn't find it.

"Gertrude?" said Dlanor, looking at the blonde inquisitor curiously, "are you ALRIGHT?"

Gertrude didn't reply.

She couldn't.

Six did not equal seven.

She was missing one whole cat.

One whole cat…

W-where on earth had she gone?

* * *

><p>"I do have to wonder though," Ronove said pensively, after a very long pause, "who the cat you killed actually belonged to?"<p>

Beelzebub shrugged carelessly. "Don't worry 'bout it. I bet it was just a stray."

"…I certainly hope so."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **And with that, this arc is finished~ A few other characters were introduced but it definitely revolved around Will and Lion (oh, and Diana…) I hope you liked it ^_^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	213. A child at heart

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #213: A child at heart

* * *

><p>"Ah~ Welcome home, my intrepid explorers. Did you have fun?"<p>

"Yes! It was lots and lots of fun! I went on the swings, and daddy pushed me, and then daddy went on the swings and tried to get _me _to push _him_... but it didn't work."

Ange sighed in that eerily mature way of hers' she must have learnt from Kyrie, and rolled her eyes. Her smile faded somewhat.

When she frowned like that, she looked just like a middle-aged woman. It kinda gave Rudolf the creeps.

There was no doubt about it. Ushiromiya Ange was definitely Kyrie's daughter, through and through.

"I _told _daddy it wouldn't work because he's a lot bigger than me," Ange continued exasperatedly. "I told him I wouldn't be able to push him, no matter how hard I tried. But he wouldn't listen. He's so silly."

Rudolf mimed being shot; one hand splayed dramatically over his chest.

"S-silly? Uwaaah... My daughter is so cruel!"

"I think you're the cruel one, dear, ahaha~" said Kyrie. "How lazy; getting your own daughter to try and push you. Then again, Rudolf, you've_ always _been lazy. You like getting other people to do all the hard work for you- when it comes to cooking, or cleaning... or even in certain other areas too, ahaha~ Isn't that right dear?"

Rudolf laughed, rubbing the back of his head in faux embarrassment. "Hihi, are you trying to insinuate something, my lovely wife?"

"Who, me? Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea, hmm?~"

"Uu..." Ange looked between her parents in confusion, pouting. That 'uu' sound was a verbal tic Ange had adopted from her big cousin Maria, though she only ever used it sparingly- mainly when she was confused. Curiously, Ange asked, "...what are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you when you're older, Angey~" said Kyrie lightly, patting her on the head. "Now. As for your stupid father, who tried to make _you_ push _him __on the swings_... I think he deserves a punishment! Don't you?"

Ange's eyes instantly lit up.

"Aaah, a punishment! Yes, dad needs one, he does, he does! Hehe!~"

"H-hey, Aaaange, I thought you were on my side! Remember, I took you to the park in the place!"

"Yes, that's true, but..." Kyrie giggled. "Judging by the state of you, it looks like _you _were playing around a lot, lot more than Ange was."

The 'state' Rudolf was in was certainly less than his best. His hair, which he always spent a little lifetime coming carefully in the bathroom mirror every morning, was messy and disordered, and his clothes were dirty.

Ange, in comparison, was pretty and pristine as ever; attired in one of her cute dresses, with her hair done up in pigtails.

Even so, Rudolf- despite Kyrie's keen eye and skilful deductive abilities- tried to play dumb.

"Eh, what do you mean, dear? I was just being a responsible parent and watching my little girl from afar as she had fun, ahaha... I certainly didn't 'play', not at my age- that's not healthy! Ahaha!"

"He's lying," said Ange flatly. "He got stuck on the slide. He tried to go down it, but he was too big, and he got stuck. Then he tried to show off by beating a bunch of teenage boys in a race, but he fell over and tripped into the sandbox instead. He crushed a young child's sandcastle and made them cry. Everybody laughed at him."

Well, that certainly explained Rudolf's black eye.

And the sand in his hair.

Not to mention the slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

Kyrie looked her stupid, silly husband up and down for a few moments, revelling in his misery for just a few heartbeats. Her foolish husband's pain really was something to behold, ahaha~

"I see men never grow up, do they? You're such a child, Rudolf~"

"Such a child, such a child!" Ange echoed.

"And you know what happens to naughty children, don't you? You know what happens when they misbehave, don't you, Ange?"

"They get punished, they get punished!"

"That's right~ My daughter's such a clever child, ahaha!~"

And with that, Kyrie leant forwards and pinched her husband's ear sharply.

Rudolf moaned in pain.

He might've had the heart of a child, but his body couldn't cope with it anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **In other news, chapters 11-20 have been updated :3


	214. No man alive

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #214: No man alive

* * *

><p>The luncheon Gohda had prepared for the family conference really was something special. Many of the Ushiromiyas had enjoyed the pleasures of dining on the finest foods from across the world given their high social standing yet, somehow, Gohda's food managed to beat all the other competition effortlessly and elegantly.<p>

Perhaps the atmosphere in the dining room helped account for that. Even though the annual family conferences were a time of turmoil, where the adults bore their fangs behind closed doors and tried to swindle one another for their father's money, that particular lunch time was a pleasant occasion. It might have had something to do with Battler's return. The cousins were all overjoyed to be together again, so their conversation was a lot more energetic than usual. The energy of youth was even more invigorating than any medicine, and it eventually managed to permeate through the adults' consciousness as well. Soon, they were all acting carefree; talking happily, laughing and joking, as though they really were a perfect family.

This happiness, even if it was only temporary, brought out hidden flavors in their food they could never have appreciated whilst miserable- and it brought out the best aspects of the Ushiromiyas seated at the grand table, too.

"It's a shame Ange couldn't come," said Rosa. "I think Maria would have liked a playmate her own age..."

"Uuu, Maria is fine, Maria is fine! Maria likes playing with big brother George and big sis Jessica and Battler, uu, uu!"

"And we like playing with you, too, Maria," said George, smiling at her. "However... it really is a shame Ange couldn't be here. Young girls like her grow up so quickly over the course of a few years; the next time I see her, she'll probably be a mature young lady. I might not even recognize her, ahaha~"

"Hm, that might be true. I remember when Jessica was that age... I swear, she grew about a foot in the space of a few days! I remember one day I looked at her, and I thought, 'wow, who is this young lady? She can't possibly be my daughter?' Ahaha!" said Krauss.

"Are you sure that's because Jessica grew up quickly, or because you're incredibly unobservant, big bro~ther?~ Fufufu~"

"I'm sure you know what Krauss means, Eva. When our George hit his growing phrase he ended up taller than us in a year or so! I kept prayin' he'd slow down, he started to made me feel inadequate! Wahahaha!"

"Yeah, and Jessica was insanely tall when she was ten," said Battler. He shuddered at the memory. "She always beat me up..."

Rudolf smirked. "Maybe that's because you were a brat who deserved to be beaten."

"Ihihihi~ If I was a brat, it was because I was following your footsteps, you old bastard."

"Aaah, see? Look how disrespectful he is, even now? Jessica- you have my permission, as that brat's father, to punch him whenever you like."

"Wahaha! Thanks, Uncle Rudolf! It's not like I need your permission, though; I'd punch anybody if they were annoying me!"

"Jessica, watch your language."

"No, it's alright, Natsuhi~ We're just joking, aren't we?~" Eva cooed, giggling.

"Yeah, you might think it's a joke, but her punches _hurt_. Even though she hasn't gotten any taller, I think her power level might've tripled these past six years, ihihi..."

"That's because your ability to piss me off has also tripled! I'm a pure lady! My survival instinct just kicks in the moment any guy talks about my figure in a creepy way! You only have yourself to blame for being a pervert~"

"Wahaha! Children are so lively!" said Hideyoshi. "Aah, these family conferences haven't been this much fun in a while. It must be because of your incredible charisma, Battler! I guess you take after your old man, huh?"

Battler winced at that misaimed compliment. He couldn't help but take any comment about his similarity to Rudolf as a positive; not when he'd just spent the last six years of his life trying to escape any ties he might've had to that old bastard.

"I-I appreciate it, really, Uncle Hideyoshi, but don't say that anymore, please! Don't ever say that! I'm nothing like him!"

"That's right. The fact our noses are a similar shape annoys me already. As if I'd want to share any similarities with that cry baby who still can't ride on a boat at age eighteen."

Maria laughed at this, clapping her hands together. "Uuu! Faall, faaaall, Battler's going to faaaaall! Kihihihi!"

Maria's laughter proved to be infectious, and soon Jessica caught a bad case of the giggles too. Holding her stomach from mirth, Jessica said, "That was frickin' hilarious! You looked like you were going to _die_!"

Battler pouted. "I _felt_ like I was going to die! Shut up, you guys- leave me alone! You're all ganging up on me, it's not faaaaair!"

A wave of laughter swept across the table at Battler's over the top reaction to this teasing. Even Natsuhi, who was normally so stony-faced and serious, was unable to suppress a smile.

"It really is a shame poor Ange couldn't come, though," Rosa reiterated; her eyes becoming slightly downcast. "I feel bad for her, missing out like this..."

"So do I," said Kyrie. "It's a shame, but she gets sick so easily... Aah, but I'm sure you know what children that age can be like, Rosa."

"Mm. Maria went through a period where she caught every illness going around, too. It was really worrying for me as a parent; I thought maybe I was doing something wrong…"

"Uu, Maria catches colds a lot. That means Maria isn't an idiot, uu, uu," said Maria proudly.

"Ihihi, I guess that's true~ I think that saying 'idiots don't catch colds' might be true. Ange always gets colds, but that's only to be expected, because she's a super smart little kid," said Battler. Now that the topic of Ange had come to the forefront of the conversation, his eyes had lit up. "I think it's a good thing she's not here, actually... Then, she wouldn't be able to hear all my mean relatives bullying her cool big brother. I think it'd break her heart, ihihi~"

"Do you and Ange get along well, then?" asked Rosa. She smiled. "It sounds like you care about her a lot."

"Oh, yeah- she's my little sister, of course I love her," said Battler enthusiastically. "I mean... She's really cute, and she's pretty mature for a young child- sometimes, I feel like I'm _her_ kid brother, the way she talks to me sometimes! I think she must get it from Kyrie. But, aah... I don't know. We have a lot of fun together. I like taking her to the park, and teasing her by turning her upside down, and baking cookies together... All kinds of stuff. I mean, I just... Aah, I can't explain it- it's too embarrassing for a guy like me, getting this sappy and sentimental!

"But, when I'm with Ange... Ahaha, I don't know... Just having her calling me 'big brother', and depending on me... that's a really, really nice feeling.

"Yeah... I really do love her."

Battler smiled; lost in his own thoughts, hardly even aware of the words were pouring out of his mouth. Battler had a huge weakness when it came to his cute kid sister, and if somebody broached the topic he could talk about her for hours, like a doting parent.

There was a small silence; all eyes turning to look at Battler in surprise. Most of the family members hadn't seen Battler for six years, so they remembered him as that young, admittedly whiny twelve year old kid who always got into fist fights with Jessica.

This Ushiromiya Battler... was completely different. Sure, he acted loud and immature, just as his younger self had, but... when he spoke about Ange, it was obvious how much he had matured.

It was surprising for everybody assembled to see that softer side of his character.

Eventually, the silence was broken, however... by a small laugh from Rosa.

"Hahaha~ You sound just like a proud parent."

"W-what? Ah, um... Ihihi~" Battler laughed awkwardly; rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "Was I babbling there? I do that sometimes... Ihihi, I'm sorry..."

"No, it's okay. It was... nice... listening to you. Heh."

And with that comment from Rosa, the conversation was soon back in full force- though it had switched to an entirely different topic. Jessica and Rudolf were cackling together like best friends over something or other, whilst Krauss and Eva bickered about something unimportant and George humored Maria.

But Rosa... didn't re enter the conversation.

She couldn't.

She was too busy thinking.

Something Battler had said had left an impression on her.

_I really do love her._

Rosa sighed and began to pick at her food with a little less interest than before.

Where on earth could she find a man like that, who would love Maria as much as Battler loved Ange?

She'd been looking for so long… … but now, it was beginning to feel impossible. Maybe a man like that didn't exist.

Not for her.

When she put the food in her mouth, it didn't taste as nice as it had done before.


	215. The banquet of the Theatergoing Witch

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #215: The banquet of the Theatergoing Witch

* * *

><p>"Ah, yes… This really <em>is<em> perfect."

A soft, blissful sigh escaped from her parted lips, and her eyelids fluttered shut in pleasure.

So, humans could create food that delectable as well, could they? That truly was amazing. Yes, even though she had been alive for thousands upon thousands of years, to the point where time now meant very little, humans could still surprise her. Food like this was an irregularity, though; an anomaly. Even if she summoned one hundred- no, one _thousand _humans before her, how many would be able to cook? And how many would be able to cook well?

_This_ well?

Ah, now the odds were spiralling downwards dramatically.

It must have been a very, very small percentage of the human population who were this skilful in the kitchen. She didn't know the exact details, having no head for facts or figures, but perhaps it was only 1%.

Maybe even less.

She was truly blessed to have found a rare member of this 1% group of people sitting around, dusty and unused, on Beato's old game board~ This small miracle only made the food even more delicious.

The grand Witch of Drama and Theatergoing, Featherine Augustus Aurora, reclined languidly in her antique, oaken chair. The table she was seated at could easily have accommodated one hundred; and occasionally it did, when Featherine called the Senate of Witches to order. But that was not the case for this luncheon. There was only one chair set at this table- at the head, as per usual.

It was Featherine's.

The meal was a quiet affair.

The only other person in the room was not allowed, by standard etiquette, to take a seat. They were so lowly they were not even permitted to look at Featherine's face; much less speak to her. It would have been a blessing for this lowly human if they could even kiss the tips of her toes.

Featherine had not allowed this human to speak, for she feared idle conversation would spoil her appetite; especially when his words, once he had been freed from his enchantment, would surely be those expressing horror and terror at his new surroundings. He was not allowed to question where he was, or why he was serving food to a witch- for if he had been allowed to think such thoughts, his entire perception of reality would have been shattered.

This human existed to cater to Featherine's whims and wishes. He couldn't think. He couldn't talk. He couldn't even feel- for, if Featherine were to tire of his presence and reduce him to cat food, he would not have been able to experience pain.

It was a hollow kind of 'existence', like that of an automaton's.

In that sense, Featherine was truly alone.

It didn't bother her, though.

It was impossible to intimidate Featherine. She had been alive for such a dizzyingly long amount of time numbers ceased to mean anything- and, if numbers ceased to be important, perhaps one could say she had been alive forever. In that sense, she was- in the truest sense of the word- larger than life.

A creature like that (for there comes a point where the word 'person' could no longer apply) could never feel loneliness.

The only emotion that continued to eat away at Featherine was boredom.

Luckily, she was inventive enough to find… _interesting_… ways to overcome that.

"Hm~ This is divine. However, I have lost my interest in savory foods. Bring me something sweet to round the meal off, if you will."

Contrary to Featherine's praise and recognition (something any witch, demon or sorcerer would have- and _had_- killed for), she had barely made a dent in her calf steak. The main course, beautifully presented and garnished, was almost exactly as it had been when served.

To humans, who greedily coveted what they liked, this might have seemed odd- but it was not so to Featherine. If she found things she enjoyed, she did not indulge herself with them, for fear they would quickly become bland. Then, she would be bored once more.

Featherine was simply being practical.

Her mute servant acquiesced to her demand- he had no option of doing otherwise- and soon replaced Featherine's almost uneaten main course with her dessert; vanilla panna cotta with rose hip and strawberry compote.

Just as the appetif and main course had been, it was presented perfectly.

And that perfection… … was beginning to grate on Featherine's nerves.

Her pleasant smile became glacial.

When she delicately took her spoon, dipped it into the dessert, and brought it to her lips… her expression grew darker and darker.

The sweet blend of the strawberry sauce, mixed with the sourness of the rose hip, created a complex blend of flavors so enticing it made the Witch of Drama and Theatergoing shiver, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head.

Delightful; it really was delightful.

And… that was why it so very _irritating._

Her new chef scored a perfect three out three. All his meals were superb. All were delicious.

And that made them predictable.

That made them bland.

Perfection was so _boring._

Featherine's excitement upon discovering a chef so skilled he dwelt within the 1% of the human population had allowed her to savor every mouthful of his previous meals. But, what would truly have made her enjoy this meal… would be if at least one dish was badly prepared.

Why, wouldn't that be even more miraculous- finding an incredible chef whose first two meals were perfect, but the dessert was enough to turn the stomach? Wouldn't that have been even more exciting?

That really _would _have been incredible.

That really _would _have entertained Featherine.

The demons whom Featherine called upon from time to time to prepare meals knew of Featherine's fickle personality well, and always ensured their meals were _almost _perfect, yet not _quite_. They consciously checked themselves, and deliberately held back on their true talents, just to appease Featherine.

But that was no good either.

Those demons prepared unappetizing meals on purpose- so their food was not miraculous.

But, sadly… this stupid human was not able to create a miracle, either.

Perfection.

Featherine hated perfection.

She reclined in her chair, and fixed her useless servant with a piercing gaze. Servants who messed up deserved to be punished, didn't they? It was common etiquette. Masters had complete control over their subordinates- and, given Featherine was a being with more power beyond mortal comprehension… by right, _everything _that existed was hers' to play with as she wished.

She could do what she wanted.

And she would.

It was an incredibly cruel punishment… but Featherine revelled in cruelty.

Sooner than blinking, without a spoken word or visible motion, the enchantment she had placed upon this lowly human ceased… and they soon found themselves very much 'alive' again.

But not for long.

His eyes widened in alarm; he looked about his surroundings in confusion; and, though he tried to hide his fear behind bravado, Featherine could see he was shaking. When he spoke, his voice trembled.

"Where… where am I… …? This… t-this can't be real… … can it?"

Featherine made a show of yawning as he pinched himself; then rolled her eyes.

"I've heard that line so many times before, Child of Man."

He then turned to her in shock; for he had been so enraptured by his strange surroundings he had failed to notice the other inhabitant of the room. Even he could sense how majestic this woman was, though- for he averted his eyes when he spoke to her, and tried to force himself to speak politely.

"Excuse, Madam… W-where am I? Who… w-who are you?"

Featherine yawned again.

How predictable.

"Ah, it's such a shame~" she said lightly; more to herself, than to this cowering, grovelling human. "If you had passed this test, I was planning on sparing Beato's game board the indignation of being torn apart by my cute miko… I would have let Beato rest in peace. Relatively. I would have left her guts intact just this once, because I'm a nice person~ Hahahaha~"

This talk of 'guts' was making him feel quite queasy; and, even though he did not know who 'Beato' was, or what this woman was talking about, he sensed it could not be anything good.

"W-what are you-"

But Featherine continued; cutting across him smoothly. "I have been observing this child's game board from a distance… and maybe I felt some sympathy for you. You really were a useless character. You didn't get any development at all. What did you do, other than make the body count that little bit more ambitious? Eheheheh~ I was offering you a chance to make a real difference; I was offering you the role of a hero~ I thought an underdeveloped, under-loved character like you, with all your human arrogance and pride, would appreciate a chance to shine~ But, you've disappointed me. You're a disappointment. Ah, you're so disappointing I can hardly bear to look at you! I have no further use for a piece such as you; but, ahaha~ My cute cat might…"

"N-now wait just one moment, M-madam- I-I don't know who you are or what you want, b-but- aaargh… nn-nggh…"

He was not even given the opportunity to speak his last lines; cliché though they were.

It was because they were cliché she would not let him speak them.

He doubled over, gripping the side of his cheek like he had toothache, and gasped in pain… but this pain was far more severe than any toothache- as the dark red liquid seeping between his fingers attested.

His face was melting.

The decay soon spread to the rest of his body.

Within a matter of long, drawn out, agonized minutes, with (to Featherine's amusement) much pointless screaming, and begging for forgiveness… the _mess _on the floor could no longer be distinguished as a human.

It was not a human.

It was a pile of meat.

Scraps.

Remains.

…Cat food.

"Well… I suppose it is fitting that, as a chef, your final role should be to surrender your very flesh for my cute cat to dine on," said Featherine, with a pleasant laugh. "Come on, my pet~ Did you think I would neglect you as I contented myself with this human's food? Of course not; I'm not nearly so selfish.

"Your lunch is ready~"

* * *

><p>When Toshiro Gohda awoke bright and early on the morn of the Ushiromiya family conference, it was with a very sharp pain in the side of his head.<p>

His nightmare had been incredibly vivid… not to mention frightening or disturbing.

It was very, very gingerly that he placed his hand against his cheek; as though fearful he would find, not his jaw underneath a film of flesh, but a sticky mess of blood and bone.

But… it was fine.

…Why wouldn't it be fine? It was only a dream.

How foolish.

He sighed in relief- and then laughed at his own ridiculously wound up state; shaking his head over his own foolishness.

It was only a dream.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I guess this is kinda sorta linked to _Vanishing Trooper__'s_ crack pairing suggestion of Magical Gohda Chef/Featherine? Ahaha Featherine is a lot of fun to write :3 I hope you like it ^_^;


	216. Happiness of marionette

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #216: Happiness of marionette

* * *

><p>Oh, look at how the mighty have fallen.<p>

She was so pathetic right now she could have laughed.

Once upon a time, she used to be an incredible witch; dancing through the night skies of Rokkenjima just like a butterfly- but wings had been far more durable than those of insects'. Even if the rain had fallen about her like spears, she would have come to no harm because she, for that short yet glorious period of two days, had been able to bend even nature to her will. She may have worn the clothes and face of a beautiful doll, but she was no marionette herself- for all the strings of gender expectations, responsibility and morality had been severed from her limbs the moment she ascended to the position of the Golden Witch.

As a human, she had been little more than a puppet controlled by others; her father, mostly.

When she was a witch, she didn't have to answer to anybody. She could do whatever she liked.

Yes... for those two days, she had tasted something far, far sweeter and more intoxicating than even the most delicious of delicacies.

For those two days, she had been unbeatable.

That was what it meant to be a witch.

...Ha.

It was so sad, then, that, the moment she had risen to such dizzying heights- she had been dropped back down roughly on her head again. The strings came back; the shackles of reality closed firmly round her; her beautiful dress dispersed in a swathe of golden butterflies.

The storm died down, the seagulls started to cry, and the police arrived on Rokkenjima to discover the 'truth'.

Ushiromiya Eva was the only survivor- and so, too, was the 'witch' who had been sired from her; but now... aaah, now sceptical humans had come to investigate the leftover remains of her beautiful game board, she could no longer claim she was a witch.

Humans would not accept a witch was the culprit.

They would not allow her to 'exist'.

A witch like her could only be alive in a closed cat box, away from prying eyes.

Now the humans were trying to fit theories to the murders- and nobody would believe the claim that Ushiromiya Rosa had been smothered and smashed and squashed into a puply bloody red jam by a giant cake, or that Krauss and Natsuhi had been suffocated by the perfect golden sewing threat of the Chiester sisters' arrows.

Nobody would believe.

And if they couldn't believe, she could not exist.

Now, she was nothing more than a vague theory discussed on TV talk shows; the 'Eva culprit theory'. She had been reduced to a human already. It was just too bad that the 'Eva culprit theory' was beginning to get out of fashion. Now, the slightly more audacious- yet, admittedly, a lot 'fresher' and more 'fun'- 'Battler culprit theory' was being bandied around, and it was all the washed out witch could do to even remain alive.

She could 'exist' inside Eva's heart, but just barely.

Ange's hatred of her aunt was beginning to give the witch a little more power; a firmer form; slightly more substance- but she still wasn't quite there yet. It might take another year or so before she could materialize her body fully, with all her limbs in the correct place, without that awful transparent gloss sticking to her skin.

She was a marionette again; tied up so tightly to Ushiromiya Eva she couldn't get away.

Oh, how she wanted that old hag to hurry up and die. Being trapped in this hospital was getting so boring- and she could do little but sit, and think, and wait; waiting and waiting and waiting, until the 'Eva culprit theory' gained more credence again, and she gained a little more power. It didn't matter if that ugly old hag died. The theory she was the culprit never would- so the witch could not die. She would exist so long as people wished her to.

But she was still weak.

She was so very, very weak.

And, now that she spent the majority of her days sharing that small hospital room with Ushiromiya Eva, she was so bored.

She wanted to be a witch again.

She... wanted to be a witch so badly.

Just one more time, she wanted to dance around in the sky, just like a golden butterfly...

Aaah, that would be fun... but she was so weak.

So weak...

And tired...

And... …

Ha.

Ahahaha…

What was that?

She was _lonely_... ... ...?

Well, maybe she was.

She hadn't spoken to anybody in twelve years, after all; it was only natural she would feel some degree of loneliness. She may have been a witch (just barely), but she still had emotions.

She could still feel lonely.

Mostly, she was just bored.

Who could she share her dreams with other than herself? She wanted to tell somebody. She was desperate for her struggles to be acknowledged.

She just wanted some company.

Maybe it was not all that surprising, then... when _he _appeared.

Perhaps, subconsciously, she had willed it- and maybe, despite how difficult it was to merely lift her head or twitch her transparent fingers, she still had just enough magical power (born out Ange's hatred, most likely) to summon at least one person to her side.

But she didn't have any friends, did she? She had been a cruel witch, so those useless seven sisters had despised her; the bunny girls feared her; and him...

Well.

She had never really spoken to him.

But he was here now; a small smile on his face, as per usual- and when he bowed in greeting, it was a very elegant and graceful motion, as she had remembered.

It pissed her off.

He looked perfectly fine, whilst she didn't even have enough energy to even adorn her body in her beautiful purple dress anymore. She was still young, still youthful, but her skin was too pale, she was far too thin and she could only wear the clothes of that old hag, who wore that ugly white hospital gown.

She looked like she was terminally ill- and she felt it, too.

It was some small comfort, then, that he was also transparent; for it seemed not even he could maintain a physical form in a hospital, summoned by a weak witch, surrounded by a large amount of anti-magic toxin.

"It is a pleasure to see you once more, Milady. I hope you are well."

He spoke in a familiar, friendly manner, as though it had not been twelve years since they last set eyes on one another. Then again... perhaps, to him, it hadn't. Time moved differently in that white world where demons resided, didn't it?

"Ha. Haha... ahahahaha..." she laughed tiredly. "Look at me. Do you _think _I'm well? Was that a joke or something? If it was, I'd have to ask you curl over and die, ahaha~"

"Ah, do forgive me; I apologize if I sounded impolite. Personally, I believe Milady looks just as enchanting as she did the moment I first set eyes upon her during her ascension ceremony all those years ago. Hm… Regardless of your circumstances, you still have that determined resolve about your face I find so admirable."

"Admirable? You admire me? How niiiiice~ I thought everybody disliked me? Heh." She smirked. "Obviously, I didn't do my job very well."

"I did find some of your execution methods rather... chilling... ... but game boards like that can be exhilarating to observe, pu ku ku~"

"You mean, even if you do hate me, you wouldn't want to admit it? Ahaha~ Well, it doesn't matter. You can tell me what you really feel right now. I can't do anything about it anymore. I can't even create a single red thread with my current power… yet alone my beautiful crimson spider webs. You don't need to worrying about being polite to a witch like me, do yooooou?~"

Her smile was twisted; sad, and self-deprecating, almost.

But it was still determined.

She hadn't given up.

He smiled. "Pu ku ku~ Certainly, I would never be rude enough to openly claim I feel hatred towards anybody; least of all to Milady. And, moreover, it would be an untruth. I do not hate you."

"Oh? You say that now... but, one day." Her eyes filled with resolve. "One day, you'll eat those words. One day, I'll make you hate me."

"Oh? And how do you profess to do that?"

"I'll become a real witch again."

Her fingers slowly curled into fists against her chest. Her wrists were disturbingly thin and frail, like sticks- but she was able to clench her fists with an unfitting amount of power. That power must have come from her determination.

"That's right, that's right," she continued, "I will become a witch once more. I might not be one now, but some day, in the future, I will definitely return to the Rokkenjima game board and make myself the culprit! I'll wear my beautiful purple dress again, and carry my staff, and have those two bunny guards by my side! I'll present that incompetent Ushiromiya Battler with a series of beautiful locked room murders, one after the other, and I'll have him wail and cry and scratch at the floor in agony whilst salty tears run down his face- oooor, if I get bored of that, I'll just kill everybody in the most fantastic and incredible ways imaginable! I'll make sweets rain from the skies; I'll paint all roses in the rose garden gold; I'll turn the sea surrounding Rokkenjima to melted chocolate and the sand to sugar! I'll be so unimaginably cruel and fickle that I'm sure even you would grow to despise me- but I won't care, because the looks of disgust I'll garner will taste delicious; they'll be the icing on my cake as a final proof of my victory! I'll dance through the sky once more just like a butterfly, and the rain won't harm me and the winds won't sting me, because I will be invincible!

"I will be a real witch again! That's my dream!"

Her voice, which had been tired and feeble at the beginning, grew in power and volume as she spoke longingly, lovingly, of her future. Her eyes sparkled; her lips curved into a small smile; her whole countenance shone.

It was impossible to imagine this impassioned young girl was, deep down inside… a monster even demons would recoil from.

It was... almost impossible.

Because, right now, she wasn't a monster at all.

She was just a young, lost, lonely girl lying on a hospital bed, dressed in an old gown and slowly wasting away.

She was occupying her time by daydreaming.

Wasn't that what all downtrodden people did?

They prayed for power.

So, despite her cruel words, he couldn't hate her.

He could only admire her.

He... respected her.

And a speech such as hers' really deserved a well thought out speech in return, did it not?

That was why he gave this reply;

"Very well… I look forward to the day when I will meet you once more. I may be unable to act as your ally this time, Milady- but, despite that... I will certainly be praying that at least some of your earnest wishes are granted. With your determination, you more than deserve it. Given, in your weakened state, you are still able to summon a demon such as myself here, that is very impressive- and a clear indication of your continuing talent.

"Yes... I believe, if a few more humans were to entertain a brief notion of your existence, you really could become something amazing once more. I hope that this day comes soon, Milady... for I am incredibly intrigued to see whether you will be able to inspire me to hatred with your cruelty or not. It sounds like a very enjoyable game- and I would very much like to take part.

"It would be my honor, Milady."

There was no sympathy in his voice. Even in this weak and tired state, she was too proud to accept it. She did not need it. Because she truly believed, one day, she could become a witch again.

And that... really was incredible.

She was incredible.

And so he was sure that she would succeed.

He was sure, just as his name was Ronove and hers' was Eva-Beatrice… that she would become a witch once more- and dance through the night sky of Rokkenjima just like a beautiful butterfly.


	217. Too many cooks

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #217: Too many cooks

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><p>"Write about me next, write about me!"<p>

"As the oldest sister, could you include me in the story when most convenient for you, please?"

"W-what about me?"

"Shut up, Levia! Nobody cares about you- you're such a boring cry baby!"

"I-I am **not** a cry baby, Satan- a-and people _do _care about me! V-virgilia likes me, and Ronove does, and-"

"Pfffft. They have to pretend to like _everyone _because they're oooold and 'polite' like that! In reality, they love me the best because I so gosh-darned adorabubble, with my cute blonde drills and all! Ahahaha- and that reminds me!~ Ange has already included me in her story as a cute fairy who helps Sakutaro- but she hasn't included YOU yet, has she, Levia?"

"W-well, no, she hasn't, but, um... um... A-aaa, ugu..."

"You don't need to include me in your tale, for I do not wish to disturb you… but I feel Leviathan might appreciate your attention?"

"U-um, I don't want to be a bother either, but I can be in it as well? Can I be a cute princess with twin tails who gets rescued by a handsome prince? I-I would really like that, it would be so romantic!~ Kyaaaa!"

"I-I don't want to be in your story, I-I don't really care! The others are just being loud and noisy, and I'm sorry if their stupidity is distracting you, Ange!"

"Ahahaha~ You say that, Satan, but I know you're the one who wants a part in it the moooost~"

"T-that's not true, Mammon! It's not! I-I don't care, I don't, I-"

"Oh yes you dooo!~"

"If Satan doesn't want a part, I'll have hers', too!"

"Shut up, Beelze, you already **have **a role!"

"I thought you said you didn't care, Sataaaan?"

"I-I don't, I don't care at all!"

"Please stop arguing?"

"Shut up Belphe, stop trying to act all mature! It pisses me off!"

"I-I'm sorry...?"

"I wanna be in it! I-it's not fair if I don't get a role!"

"Can I be a princess?"

"I'm your best friend, I need the best role!"

"No! I want a good role, I-I'm one the oldest!"

"I'm already in it, I'm already in iiiiit, kyakyakya~"

"A-as the oldest sister, I don't approve of all this senseless arguing, but I believe it would only be fitting if you somehow involved me in one of your tales too, Ange."

"Can I have a bigger role?"

"Can I do this?"

"Can I do that?"

"It'd be really cool if I had a scene where-"

"-tear your eyes out of your head, Beelzebub!"

"-I-I think you're bothering-"

"Shut up, Belphie!"

"I want to be a princess, please?"

"As the oldest-"

"-I-I don't even WANT a part!"

"I-it's not fair!"

"Kyakyakyakyakya!"

_Thump!_

A loud noise split the sisters' argument in two cleanly.

It was the noise of Ushiromiya Ange- alias, Kotobuki Yukari, the up-and-coming children's author- banging her head against her computer desk.

She should have known it was a mistake to tell those noisy seven sisters she'd include them in one of her stories one day.

She really should have known.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** to_ fan of games_- tis fine if you want to save any pictures from my tumblr to your computer, I didn't draw any of them anyway XD


	218. A real fun guy to be with

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #218: A real fun guy to be with

* * *

><p>Sanon hadn't meant to do it, really, she hadn't! She hadn't wanted to hurt him- she'd only wanted to have a conversation! I-it wasn't her fault he was being a thick-headed <em>jerk <em>and he didn't realize she was trying to be friendly- it wasn't her fault at all! If Sanon had to bear the responsibility for the whole worlds' stupidity her body would be crushed like a tin can underfoot.

The curly-haired maid of the Ushiromiya family had read in a magazine somewhere (w-well, actually, she'd stolen the magazine from Asune… n-not that she'd ever admit to taking advice from _garbage_ like that) that, if you had a crush on somebody (not that she did) then you should try and talk to them.

This advice probably would've been more useful if the girl taking it had been a normal high school student, instead of a maid for the prestigious Ushiromiya family. Normal girls didn't have their lives timetabled so strictly by Madam Natsuhi that little time was left over for personal chitchat. Nevertheless, Sanon tried her best- dusting the parlor in double-quick time with even more precision than usual, just so she could have a few seconds spare to talk to him.

I-it wasn't like she liked him or anything, though, no matter what the other maids said.

Geez...

Why would anybody think that? He was still a little kid after all, about... sixteen, was it? She was barely even a teenager anymore. That three year age gap was a pretty big barrier. So, she didn't love him.

She didn't.

But... she couldn't deny, he was quite attractive- and something about his quiet, modest nature drew Sanon towards him. He was the polar opposite of her, really, who hid her embarassment behind false anger and bluster, whilst he was always calm and composed. He was younger than her, but maybe he was more mature.

And maybe that was why she was interested.

She... actually respected him.

And she thought he was pretty cool.

Sanon was also bad at talking to men her own age; she found it intimidating, and then she got flustered, and then she would feel weak and helpless and pathetic and, subsequently, lose her temper- at first with herself, and then with the man who had made her feel so horrible. Sanon had always found talking to people younger than her a lot easier.

Just a little bit.

But this age gap hadn't really worked in Sanon's favor this time.

She'd been really polite to him when she saw him; trying not to look too eager (n-not that she _was_) and engaging in pleasant conversation even though she had no idea what the hell to talk about, and her heart had been beating _thump thump thump_ inside her ribcage as though it was going to explode.

S-she'd tried her best, really!

It wasn't her fault Kanon _refused to be polite to her-_ mumbling something about 'gardening' and being 'furniture' so 'there really isn't much else to say, Miss Sanon.'

S-she hadn't meant to do it…

But, somehow, without input from her brain (which kind of felt like it had melted, from both embarrassment and humiliation), her mouth just kind of sort of spilled out a deluge of _words _without her permission.

"W-well, _fine_! I try to be _nice_, because we're work colleagues and h-having good work _relationships_ is important, b-but I guess you really don't give a damn at all! I guess you just want to be mean about it, huh? You're such a pathetic man! I-I hate you, Kanon!"

And with that loud exclamation- so loud, in fact, it made a few birds in the rose garden scatter- Sanon reached forwards…

…and pushed Kanon straight over.

She pushed him right into the rose bush he'd been tending.

It looked painful.

Judging by his small gasp of pain, it _was_ painful.

Ahaha… t-those thorns looked like they'd cut him up pretty bad.

Sanon's whole body trembled.

She didn't mean to do it- really, she hadn't! It just sort of happened- and it wasn't her fault anyway!

I-it wasn't like Sanon _knew_ that particular patch of roses also contained a bunch of poison oak, or that Kanon would get some weird, fungal skin disease and his exposed skin would go all red and sore and blotchy and pus-like. S-she never intended that to happen!

…Meanwhile, the rest of the maids who were on duty that week found it absolutely hilarious.

"You know, I don't think much of your flirting techniques, big siiiis~ I think they're a few years too early to be effective," said Berune, a cruel smile on her face. "You're not meant to _beat him _into submission so he starts liking you!"

"S-shut up…"

"But hey, look on the bright side," said Manon, also grinning. "I guess you left a deep, long-lasting impression on him!"

"That's right, that's right! He's not likely to forget you in a hurry now, is he? Ahahaha!"

"I-I think it's sort of romantic~ A love so intense it bubbles up into violence and anger… and maybe passion, too… …? Kyaaa!~ How adorable!~" Asune cooed happily; head resting in her hands, a dreamy look on her face.

Manon grinned. "Ehehe~ It's just too bad Sanon got it wrong. It's the _guy_ who's meant to give the _girl _flowers, right?"

Sanon's face turned bright red.

"S-shut up!"


	219. The worst feeling

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #219: The worst feeling

* * *

><p>Hachijo Ikuko sighed as she tapped her favorite fountain pen against the side of her desk. The sound of the pen colliding against the firm mahogany gave a nice, soothing noise, a little like falling rain; <em>tap, tap, tap.<em>

Even so, it didn't help.

It couldn't soothe her nerves.

The sheet of paper before her still remained irritatingly, annoyingly, uncompromisingly _blank_.

Ikuko wanted to write, she truly did. Her fingers were almost itching to place her pen against that sheet of white paper, which was so pure and clean and just _begging _to be defiled by the tip of her pen in successive strokes, over and over again.

Writing gave her a feeling of power; as though she were some clandestine goddess who could survey lowly children of men as though they were ants. When Ikuko wrote, she could manipulate lives, loves, relationships and personalities all at the single stroke of a pen. No human could ever be more powerful than one who had both ink and an imagination. With ideas, a pen and some paper, Ikuko could craft her own universes to her liking, and destroy them just as easily by scoring lines through her own work.

She could create anything and everything, and she adored it.

But when her hands were tied up by her empty head, and her river of inspiration had run dry, she couldn't do a thing. How could she set her pen to paper when there was nothing particularly interesting she had to say?

There wasn't a feeling in the world worse than wanting to write, but having no ideas.

She bit her lower lip.

She twisted her thoughts about inside her head.

She tried to think of something, _anything_ that she could write about...

But nothing worked.

Her lovely antique grandfather clock ticked slowly in the background; reminding her, very firmly, that until she had an idea she was still a lowly human; not the goddess in complete and perfect control she desired to be. For now, she was still a human, constrained by time, and age... and the inside of her own head.

...She really needed something sweet to eat right now.

* * *

><p>Hachijo Ikuko sighed as she tapped her favorite fountain pen against the side of her desk; <em>tap, tap tap<em>. The repetitive, monotonous sound mingled with the steady ticking of her grandfather clock. These two noises were hardly intrusive on their own but, when coupled with Ikuko's steadily mounting temper, they were just loud enough to eat away at her nerves.

Ikuko very rarely lost her calm and composure, but this really was trying her patience. Not even sweet foods could cure her black mood now.

She had been wrong yesterday; she had been incredibly wrong. There did exist in a world a feeling worse than desiring to write but having no ideas.

That feeling was having rather too many ideas, and being unable to write any of them down.

Her sentence structures were either too long or too short, and no matter what she did, she couldn't refine them to make them more pleasant to read. Her dialogue felt stilted and unnatural. The characters were all flat. Although she was working hard, it felt as if her 'love' for this small universe she was trying to craft wasn't sufficient, so there was no real 'feeling' to any of it. Her words didn't create images; they merely remained words on a page, with no deeper meaning to them.

It was just... dull.

Her writing was dull.

Why did her ideas sound so good in her mind, but so awful when written down on the paper?

Ikuko surveyed what she had written with disdain. The white page was no longer white. Instead, it was stained with scribbles and crossings out, and it looked hideous.

Almost as hideous as the look on Ikuko's face.

This was pointless.

What a waste of time.

When Ikuko could write, she was happy.

When she couldn't… honestly, she felt a little like gnawing her own right arm off.

It was a shame doing that would severely hamper her chances of ever being able to write properly ever again.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **sorry, _Fan of Games_, I haven't started your requests yet ;_; I will soon, I promise. At some point. I kind of write them when I have inspiration to write them, though, and I never know when that will be.


	220. A tall tale

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #220: A tall tale

* * *

><p>The characters that were assembled on the stage for this particular tea party really were quite varied and bizarre. If the scene in the Golden Land could be compared to a chess board, it would be a chess board which had been hijacked by pieces from various other games- almost as if the counters from monopoly had decided the replace the pawns, or something else equally as ridiculous.<p>

Typically, the only people who inhabited the Golden Land were Beatrice and her entourage. This was not true today.

In an odd twist of events, Beatrice found herself enjoying her tea with Battler, Virgilia, Dlanor, Gertrude, Will and Lion- whilst Ronove, looking proper as per usual, presided over them and elegantly served the strange collection of guests tea and cakes.

This set up of people enjoying a pleasant spot of tea hadn't been seen in the Golden Land before- but the events leading up to it hadn't been all that odd. Virgilia had been planning to have a tea party with Dlanor and Gertrude for some while; whilst, at the same time, Lion had decided to visit Beatrice and Battler to see how they were, out of concern that Beatrice's childish cruelty might've managed to break down her husband. Of course, if Lion was going to venture somewhere in Purgatorio, Will had to come along, even if he didn't much want to. Cruel witches had been known to sabotage isolated pawns like Lion when by ventured from place to place.

It was just a coincidence Virgilia's tea party coincided with Lion and Will's visit, that was all. It was hardly even a miracle. The odds of something like this occurring were about 10%; low, but not impossible.

There was something distinctly bizarre about it, though.

Battler laughed to himself as he reclined in his chair; looking at the scene about him with amusement. It was nice, seeing such a diverse group of faces all gathered together- and it was kind of interesting seeing how they all interacted with one another.

There was something kind of hilarious about the way Will keep glaring at Ronove, and only grunting half-heartedly to the demon butler's polite questions about tea or cakes. It looked like Will really, really didn't like Ronove- and Battler could hardly blame him, either. That demon butler was damn creepy. Still… Battler couldn't help but wonder, when Lion apologized to Ronove on behalf of Will's poor behavior, whether they had some kind of history together he wasn't aware of it...

Dlanor, meanwhile, got along with everybody. Virgilia and Gertrude acted in a motherly manner over the young girl; Will and Beato teased her over her lack of height; Lion asked her several polite questions about her job; and Ronove was only too happy to give her hot chocolate rather than tea, despite Virgilia's gripes it wasn't good for her.

"I'm sure it will be fine," said Ronove, smiling, as he handed Dlanor her requested drink. "Knowing Miss Gertrude, I am certain Miss Dlanor has to adhere to a strict diet at home. Having a treat every once in a while like this should be fine, pu ku ku~"

Dlanor smiled a small, cat-like smile as she accepted her drink.

"Yes. It's FINE. I have to eat so many vegetables at home, it's so TIRING. I'm just a kid, so I don't particularly like any kind of green FOOD," Dlanor explained, in between dainty sips of her hot drink. "Thank you, Mister Ronove."

"It's my pleasure, pu ku ku~"

"Aaah, well... If it's just an occasional treat, things like this can be fine, I suppose... After all, I always made sure to give Beato thick slices of home made apple pie in the past if she ate my mackerel stew."

"I haven't tried to prepare many fish dishes for Dlanor. Perhaps you could give me some recipies, Miss Virgilia?" said Gertrude.

"Of course, of course~ Nothing is more delicious than a mackerel, I assure you! Oh ho ho!"

"Yes, Kumasawa always used to say that," Lion chipped in, a small, nostalgic smile on their face. "She said the freshly squeezed juice of a mackerel was conductive to curing wrinkles and restoring lost youth- although I don't know how truthful that is, ahaha~"

"Ihihihi~ Granny Kumasawa did say that, didn't she?" said Battler. "She was pretty old, but she always acted really youthful and energetic despite that! Maybe mackerel really does work! Maybe mackerel actually works like the elixir of life?"

"Ooh? That's an interesting theory," said Beatrice, with a small cackle. "I'm sure numerous alchemists across the world would be disappointed if they discovered that was the case, ufufufu~ I think the _Tan Chin Yao Ch'eh_ said something mercury, sulphur and arsenic being used to create something like that… Gyahahahaha! If the secret ingredient of eternal youth really is mackerel, Xu Fu would be rolling around in his grave!"

"Miss Virgilia is very pretty," Dlanor piped up, "though she has lived for several thousands of YEARS. I don't think there is any scientific evidence that says mackerel restores youth, but there might be some truth in IT."

"Ihihi, that's right, that's right! Virgilia is a really cute witch, isn't she? Maybe it is all the mackerel!"

Virgilia flushed slightly. "Oh ho ho!~ Stop it, Dlanor, Battler- you're embarrassing me~ I'm past the age where I need compliments like that, ahaha…"

"Although, I remember when Kumasawa tried to make me eat her special mackerel curry when I was young, it made me very ill," said Lion, laughing. "I think mackerel must be an acquired taste."

"Diana doesn't like mackerel."

"Diana has good taste~ I don't like mackerel either," said Beatrice. "It's vile- especially the disgusting fishy slop Teacher used to prepare for me! Aaah, just remembering that awful smell, and the texture... ufufufu, only a tasteless old woman would find _that_ appealing!"

"B-beato, don't be so rude!"

"Well, I have a riiiiight to be- I'm just stating my opinion. I think it'd be child cruelty if you tried to force your awful mackerel dishes onto poor like Dlanor, too! You'll corrupt her pure heart and cute, childish innocence! Do you want Dlanor to end up like me, Teacher- do yoooou? Gyahahahaha!"

"W-what do you mean, _I'll _corrupt Dlanor? I-I won't, I would never... I just care about her! _You're _the one who showed her all those... those..."

Face flushed, Virgilia looked between Ronove and Battler hopelessly for a few moments, her face turning redder and redder.

Battler didn't really understand the meaning behind that look, but it was making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Beatrice's laughter wasn't helping very much, either…

"...I do not wish to become like Madam Beatrice. She is a very interesting woman, but I feel my personality is very different to HER'S," said Dlanor, softly enough so Beatrice and Virgilia (who had started to argue about the properties of macerel) couldn't hear.

"Heh. I like Beato, but I don't want you to be like her either," said Battler, grinning. "Two Beatos would be way, waaaay too much work- even for me. One is definitely the best."

"Pu ku ku~ I share your sentiments entirely, Battler."

"It's fine, short stuff," said Will, ruffling Dlanor's lavender hair. "I'll make sure she doesn't corrupt you."

"Yeah, that's right! Me and Will, we'll work hard together to defend your honor and your innocence! Ihihihi!"

"And I am too much of a gentleman to allow a person like Milady to be a bad influence on a fair maiden such as yourself, pu ku ku~"

Dlanor looked between Will, Battler and Ronove for a few moments; cup of hot chocolate held in her hands. Then, she bowed her head in a thanks politely, just as Gertrude had always shown her in the past- a small smile alighted upon her usually stoic face.

"Thank you very MUCH. It is a pleasure to know so many people care about ME."

"No problem, no problem~ Although, come to think of it... You seem to get along with us guys pretty well, don't you, Dlanor? I didn't know you were on such good terms with this creepy butler, or Will. I thought you guys worked for completely different agencies- and Ronove's a demon. How'd you justify that?"

"I think judging people based on their backgrounds is IMPOLITE. I would prefer to judge people based on their personalities rather than their BACKGROUNDS. I find you kind people, so I will be friendly towards YOU. Moreover..."

Dlanor smiled her small, cat-like smile once more.

"I am very short because I am just a KID. I need to be on cordial terms with tall people so they can reach things for ME."

Battler looked between Will and Ronove for a few moments, pondering.

It was true.

He, Will and Ronove really were the tallest people at this table... and, come to think of it, Gertrude was one of the tallest women Battler had ever met, as well; only an inch or two shorter than Will.

Battler couldn't help but laugh a little at that realization.

Dlanor was a pretty practical kid.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **to _fan of games; _don't worry, I'm sure I'll get your request done before summer ^_^;; I'm not really sure when 'spring' is defined as beginning though, the definition of it seems to change a lot depending on where you live... what date would you say is the first day of spring? I'll try and post it then.


	221. A modest proposal

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #221: A modest proposal

* * *

><p>George splashed his face with cold water in an attempt to calm his nerves. At the same time, he forced himself to carefully regulate his breathing, in and out, in and out, so he didn't inadvertently hyperventilate. Collapsing on the floor in a heap of spasmodic, paralytic twitching whilst choking to death and turning blue didn't sound particularly conductive in creating the soft, romantic atmosphere he was hoping for.<p>

Candles, string music and maybe rose petals drifting through the air were romantic. Seizures were not.

In George's defence, it was rather difficult trying to 'get romantic' in a public restroom at the airport. Even though it was a rather nice restroom, by restroom standards, without graffiti on the walls or toilet paper stuck to the floors or ceiling, it was still difficult practising his proposal without thinking every two or three seconds, _I'm being stared at by the urinals_.

It was completely ridiculous, and George knew it was ridiculous, but he just couldn't relax. His location, coupled with his own fear of doing this to the girl he loved instead of his reflection in the mirror, was enough to make his fingers tremble.

What if she said no?

What if... I-it was almost too horrible to contemplate, but what if he had been reading into her reactions wrong all this time and she didn't even like him? Maybe she had just been playing along because-

_No,_ _don't be stupid, George_, he scolded himself; disgusted at his own doubts.

Shannon would never do that. She wasn't the type of person who could string a man along like that. She was a kind, gentle girl, who once professed to feeling guilty because she accidentally set a tea tray down on a ladybird in the kitchen.

But... was it likely, then, that Shannon didn't truly love him- but had been pretending to so that she didn't hurt his feelings?

Yes; that sounded more like the thing a girl like Shannon would do, and George wouldn't even be surprised if that was the case. When he was younger, he'd been an arrogant, selfish brat who believed himself better than everyone else. If Shannon didn't love him, he wouldn't blame her. He had been trying to better himself for her, so he could become deserving of her beautiful bright smiles- but he still had a lot of work to do.

Even now, there were still horribly selfish, childish elements of his character that shone through his mask of forced maturity.

He was still a kid, really. Even after all these years... he was still a kid.

He was beginning to feel a little ill.

What if she said no...?

What if?

_Well_, he though, trying to clear this paranoia away with sheer determination,_ I'll never know if she says 'no' or not until I ask her._

George drew his trembling fingers into the pocket of his shirt and drew the small object out. He tried to present it elegantly, with a graceful flourish at the end, but it didn't go exactly as planned. He very nearly dropped it down the sink he was standing in front of. Luckily, he was able to catch it just in time- but the damage to his pride had already been done.

His face flushed light pink.

It was a good thing this was only a practise, and not the real thing. Maybe it was better to make a few mishaps now, rather than in front of Shannon?

Clearing his throat, George presented the small box before his reflection in both hands. He wished he didn't look quite so flustered, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Trying to sound 'cool' (was this how a 'cool' person would talk?), he said, "S-Shannon... No, Sayo. Take this ring and put it on your finger. That's an order, and I... I... huh...?"

He paused.

He pondered.

And then he started to agonize.

"I-isn't that a little too forceful? I-I don't want her to misunderstand my intentions, but... No, of course Sayo knows what an engagement ring is- I don't need to tell her what to do with it, but... Well, if I _order _her to put it on, that seems a little... aaah... I can't _force _her. I'd feel horrible if I forced her. Did that... really sound that bad... ...?"

"Yeah. It did. No offence, but you sounded like a jerk."

And George jumped about a foot in the air.

The box containing the expensive engagement really did from his hands this time, just like a bar of slippery soap.

It was a good thing _she_ was there to catch it, then; a small, teasing smile on her face.

She was completely unlike any girl George had ever seen before.

Her blonde hair was studded liberally with red ribbons, plastic flowers and pieces of candy. Her outfit was a mess of pink; pink _everywhere_, from her pink-and-white candy-like striped socks, to her rather... interesting dress. The only thing in her outfit that wasn't pink were long, black, elbow-length gloves.

The more George looked at her, the more surreal she seemed to become. It was almost as if she had stepped straight out of a children's cartoon about cute magical girls; the kind of shows Maria loved.

Was this that new trend called 'cosplay'?

George didn't know. He had next to no idea about popular fashions, to the point where Jessica (and even, occasionally, Shannon) teased him about it; '_what, you mean you haven't even heard of this song/band/TV show? Are you sure you're a few years older than me, and not a middle-aged man trapped in a teenager's body? Wahahahaha!_'

Aaah, but, that didn't matter right now. The more pressing issue was, _why on earth was she in the men's restroom?_

And what was she going to do with his engagement ring?

How did she know his name, anyway?

And... where had she come from? All of the stalls had been were open, their doors ajar, when George had walked into the restroom; he was sure of that. So how had she managed to get inside the room?

Just who was this girl, anyway?

"Heh. Cat got your tongue?" she asked; reaching forwards and prodding George in the side of the cheek with one finger (she had to stand on her tiptoes to do this, for she really was quite short). "That's quite cute. You're completely unlike that other guy, who's always shouting about nonsense and clutching his head all the time; _useless, it's all useleeeeess_! Oh ho ho ho!"

"I-I don't... I'm afraid I don't... A-ah, who... are you, Miss?"

At George's question, her eyes lit up. "Ooh, Miss!~ I like being called 'Miss'! Usually, Bern just calls me 'annoying', ahaha~ Aaah, but- ooh, I've got to remain mysterious. Ahem.

"Who am I? Why, you foolish child of man- I am nobody important! But if you want, you can just call me Miss Super Paper!"

And, so saying, she tipped her head back and started to laugh; "Oh ho ho ho ho!"

George stared at her blankly.

"Super… paper… …?"

"Mmhm. It's my own invention, and I'm going to get it copyrighted, so don't steal it, okay?"

"I-I won't…?"

"Good. Hehe~ Then I can tell you and me are going to get along just fiiine. As for why I'm here, hm… let's see, let's see… How can I put it? Well..."

She pondered, holding the fingers of one hand underneath her chin. After a small while, an idea seemed to spark across her face, and she gave a small 'aha!~' of happiness.

"I'm just a cute, adorable girl who happens to really like romantic stories with happy endings!~ I guess that's all you need to know, oh ho ho! I wouldn't usually interfere with the arrangement of pieces on the board for a trivial matter such like this, but... aaah. 'Love' isn't a trivial matter, is it? And…

"Hehe~ Truthfully, I find something very endearing about you, Jeoooojiii~ You've always been so resolute in your love, that it's really... admirable? Yeah. You have a strong sense of determination, and I really like that. I like rewarding people like that. To make a relationship work, at least one party has to be super-serious about it, right?

"The world needs more light-hearted, fluffy romance! The scenes where you two eat cake together, and tease each other... aaah, that's so cuuuute!~ It's almost as cute as watching Bern writhe around on the floor licking up spilt honey with her tongue, with her arms and legs cut off! Ahahahaha!~"

George blinked at the strange pink apparition in surprise, completely lost for words. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even understand what this girl was talking about- though some of it sounded quite sinister. She spoke with the cheerful, lilting voice of a young child- but the contents of her speech were... quite strange, to say the least.

Was talking in a weird way like this another 'cosplay' thing? Was it fashionable amongst youngsters, and the social norm, but George didn't understand because he'd been too busy focusing on work lately?

George had always been left in the dark when it came to stuff like this, ahaha…

But, even so… how did this girl know about his relationship with Sayo?

"Heheheh. Though, much as I like ya, your attempts at making a proposal just now were completely awful," Miss Super Paper said bluntly. "You sounded waaay too commanding; like some kind of evil overlord or something!"

"Ahahaha... W-was it really that bad?"

"Yeah. It was. But, don't worry." She smiled. "I have faith in you. I'm sure you won't screw it up when you propose to the actual girl. In fact... I can state it with certainty. You won't screw up."

Somehow, although she was a lot shorter than George, and her outfit was completely bizarre, and... there was something just a little deranged and abnormal about her... George found her words to be incredibly soothing. It was almost as if, as she made this lofty promise, the very mechanics of the universe shifted to accommodate her words.

Or... something like that, anyway.

All the pink in her outfit was still making George's head spin a little.

Almost as an afterthought, Miss Super Paper added, stabbing one finger in George's direction, "Oh. And don't you worry about 'looking cool', either! Just be the glasses guy you are all the time- and don't try to act like somebody else. That's very, very important for a relationship, you hear? George is George. Battler is Battler. Shannon might have liked Battler in the past, but she likes _you _now- so don't even try to be like him!"

"W-wait, how do you-"

"The world already has one Ushiromiya Battler anyway! Two would be enough to break any universe apart! And, personally, I _like _glasses guys, okay? So I'm going to support you fully! Do your best, Jeoooji!~ Ahahahaha!~"

And she handed the box back to George; pressing it insistently into his hands.

George looked down at it in surprise, one hundred and one questions running through his mind, just like the black and white Dalmatians in that Delsney movie. This whole strange, surreal encounter had been so sudden he hadn't really processed what was going on- and he jerked his head upwards, hoping to catch the girl before she left and call back to her; _who are you, how do you know that, what are you talking about...?_

"W-who, aah... ... h-huh...?"

But those questions soon died on George's lips.

The restroom was completely empty.

It was almost as if there had never been anybody there at all.


	222. Death in conflagration

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #222: Death in conflagration

* * *

><p>This was going to be fine, Battler reasoned with himself. It would all be fine.<p>

He wasn't hyperventilating from panic or having a nervous breakdown.

He _wasn't_.

If he believed he wasn't, maybe all this crippling self-doubt would clear away from his mind, like sunshine splitting through the fog. Yeah- that was it. He'd pretend he was fine, and he wasn't sweating, and his fingers weren't trembling, and his heart wasn't about to leap out of his mouth, and _maybe _if he forced himself to believe everything was _just fine _for long enough it really _would _be fine, and he could laugh at his stupidity later, wa ha ha ha-

"-think you got all of that, then?"

Battler froze.

His fingers gripped the steering wheel of his dad's car so tightly he was half afraid he'd pull the damn thing off- and maybe, given his steroid-induced strength, that wasn't so unlikely to happen.

His heart beat faster and faster in his chest. At least it wasn't trying to jump out his mouth, though, which could only be a good sign.

This was going to be fine… … right?

…Right?

…

Aaah, who the hell was he kidding?

This wasn't alright- this wasn't alright at all, a-and he hadn't heard a _single word _Rudolf had said, and he had no idea what the fuck he was going to do and that _damn old bastard knew it_, he knew Battler was panicking, god damn it, and that was why he was smirking at him!

How the hell had it come to this? How the actual hell had Rudolf managed to coerce him _into a car_- and behind the steering wheel, no less! This was an awful idea! Battler had known it was an awful idea before he'd even tried; something common sense dictated he should never, under any circumstances, ever do, like sticking his hand into a furnace, or telling self-conscious girls they looked fat. Battler didn't need to try and drive a car to know he'd never be able to cope. He felt travel sick just _looking _at anything with wheels, and the last time he'd taken Ange into town on the public bus he got so sick he'd needed to get off two stops early to avoid throwing up all over the elderly woman sat in front of him. How the hell was he ever going to be able to drive one of these... _perversions of technology _by himself? He'd never be able to!

That damn old bastard had managed to catch Battler where it hurt, that was all. He'd started to attack Battler's pride- dropping hints here and there that it really was pathetic he still couldn't handle moving vehicles, and maybe that was why he didn't have a girlfriend yet because he was such a wimp, and did he _want _Ange to grow up with a failure of a big brother a-and... damn it, damn it!

Damn damn _damn._

Battler had been stupid to fall for Rudolf's chiding.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't.

He was going to die.

He was going to crash the car into a tree and he was going to die.

Slowly, Battler turned around to look at Rudolf; hating that damn old bastard, who was smirking and casually smoking a cigarette, legs crossed and leant back in the passenger seat as though he was king of the god damn world or something.

It made Battler want to punch him in the face.

...That is, if he wasn't sick first.

"Problem, Battler?" asked Rudolf, still smirking that unpleasant smirk. "You _were_ listening to me, were you? I'd hate to think what'd happen to the car if you weren't."

"Ihihi, w-well-"

"What?" Rudolf raised a brow. "It's not like you're _still _afraid of cars at _your _age, is it? I mean, that was kind of cute when you were a kid, but you're, what- eighteen, now? You're an adult, despite your stupid hair. It's time you started acting like a man, instead of that whiney kid who kept crying."

"I-I was _not _a whiney kid! A-and I'm not afraid of cars, of course I'm not- hihihi, d-don't be ridiculous!"

"Alright. Then why don't you prove it and put the keys in the ignition, instead of bitching at me like a baby?"

There was a reason why Battler hadn't lived with Rudolf for six years. He was forcefully being reminded of why.

"...Tch. At least you're still the same _wonderful_, supportive father figure I remember," Battler muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"And you're still the same cowardly son, so I guess we're even, huh? Now, hurry the fuck up before I die of old age."

"Heh. Is that how you spoke to your huge harem of devoted lovers, too? Are those the kinds of good manners you want me to emulate?"

"That is neither here nor there," said Rudolf smoothly, finishing his cigarette and throwing it out the window. "As if you could ever attain even a fifth of my skills with the ladies; not if you can't drive a car. Stop stalling and _do something already._"

"Y-yeah, I will do it- I will, i-in my own time! I-It's just, ah... ah..."

Battler laughed nervously and rubbed a hand through his messy hair. His bravado had completely vanished.

It was difficult trying to remain calm when the prospect of actually driving was barrelling towards him like an unstoppable train.

This was a nightmare.

This was the embodiment of all of Battler's nightmares ever since he was three years old all rolled up into one.

Flushing with embarrassment, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, Battler looked down at his own sneakers. He couldn't look at that damn bastard's smug grin; not now. If he did, he'd want to punch it. He didn't want to see the look on Rudolf's face when, cowed into submission, he actually had to bite the bullet... and ask for help.

"Ihihi, yeah... so... C-can you give me some advice, or, um... anything?"

There was a small silence.

Then, Rudolf began to laugh; a taunting, malicious laugh that turned even the tips of Battler's ears red.

"Yeah. He's a word of advice for you, my cute son. Don't drive like a dick."

That was probably the last straw.

Battler, his nerves already stretched paper-thin from panic, not to mention a fear over his own imminent, painful, firey death in conflagration, snapped.

He completely snapped.

* * *

><p>"So, how did Battler's driving lessons go?" asked Kyrie pleasantly.<p>

Rudolf winced. "…Well, that kid's a lot stronger than he used to be when he was twelve, I'll give him that."


	223. As a matter of professional interest

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #223: As a matter of professional interest

* * *

><p>"Oh my gosh! I don't believe it! This is incredible, ahahahaha!"<p>

"W-what? I-I don't think this... that strange..."

"No, it is, it _definitely _is! Who'd have thought you'd ever wear something like _this_! Ahahaha!"

"B-be quiet! You're always telling me I should dress in a more 'modern' manner- and even though I don't agree with you at all, and there's nothing wrong about not wanting to display my legs to the world, I just thought, maybe, ah... for a change, and so you would stop annoying me... I could try. B-but, I'm not going to wear things like this normally!" Virgilia retorted, her face flushing a shade of bright red.

Wow, mused Gaap, smiling a Cheshire Cat smile, it had taken... what, _five seconds _to rile Lia up this time? Lia had a lot of patience, so typically, it took quite a bit longer to make her get this flustered.

She really must have been really, _really _embarrassed over her new outfit.

"I-I don't know why you're in my room anyway," Virgilia said, anxiously tugging at the hem of her light purple skirt in despair, and- aww, when she did that, she looked so cuute!~ "This is my own private space. Get out."

Gaap rolled her heavily made up eyes. "Well, I'm _sorry _for 'invading your private space'."

"D-don't say it like that! T-there was nothing _odd_ about what I just said, you just added that connotation yourself an-nggkk... o-oww..."

Virgilia squeaked in pain, like a mouse that had been stepped on (but a lot cuter- and with less blood and entrails stuck to the heels of the shoes), and pressed a hand to her mouth.

It looked like she'd just bitten her tongue.

Hehe, it was almost as if Lia was trying to be the most adorable thing ever on purpose or something!

Virgilia's new outfit was very similar to Beato's formal jacket and ruffled skirt combination. In fact, it was almost entirely the same, but the stripy knee socks had been replaced for a more demure pair of black tights (it looked like Lia wasn't quite ready to expose her skin yet). The red that predominated Beatrice's outfit had also been swapped for a light shade of lilac, which matched with Virgilia's hair.

Aaaah, she was so adorable! When Virgilia was stood there blushing, in her cute new outfit (it was a shame about her head-eating hat, though), she was so adorable that Gaap just…

She just…

She…

"Kyaaaaaaah!~ Lia, I'm taking you home with me!"

"N-no! G-g-get off me!"

"Nooo! I don't wanna! Lia, you're so cuuuute! Your thighs look so tasty I wanna cut 'em up and fry 'em and make 'em into yakitori! Aaaah, why don't you wear outfits like this more often!"

"Y-you're answering your own question, idiot! I-I don't wear them b-because you react like _this_!"

"Kyaaaa, Lia called me an idiot! How cute!~ Aaaaah, but now I'm really, really curious!" Gaap cried; her arms still tightly wrapped round Virgilia's middle. "You're wearing a brand new outfit, but I wanna know, as a matter of professional interest, being a fashionista and all… ehehehe…" An eerie light glinted in her eyes. "Are you wearing matching lilac panties too!"

"N-no! No, I'm not! Stop it! Get off me! Get oooooff!"

At that moment, it didn't matter that Virgilia had swapped the color scheme of Beatrice's outfit from red to lilac.

Her face was red enough.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So… I might slow down the pace of this fic and update every other day, or every three days, just to keep the stories a little… fresher? And hopefully not as repetitive. But I'll still take requests, and I'll still work on the requests I have, etc, etc.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	224. Better late than never

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #224: Better late than never

* * *

><p>"Hm? What is THIS?"<p>

Dlanor turned the envelope over in her hands, a blank expression on her doll-like face.

Was this….

Could is possibly be…?

Judging by today's date, it seemed more than likely that this envelope would contain something like that; it was common sense to deduce that much. It was February the 14th, after all.

That envelope had to contain a cute card. It didn't make sense for it to contain anything else- and Will was giving it to her in person, as well, which only strengthened her convictions.

He even looked unusually flustered and embarrassed.

All signs pointed towards this letter containing a Valentine's card.

But Dlanor didn't like it.

It seemed like the most obvious conclusion to come to, given all the evidence she had- but it really made no sense at all. Why would Willard H. Wright, her childhood friend, and a man who frequently made fun of her height, give her a Valentine's Day card? Will wasn't a romantic person, and Dlanor wasn't really old enough to appreciate romantic sentiments. They were only friends.

Although it was Valentine's Day, there was no reason for Will to give her a card.

That was why Dlanor couldn't accept that this was a Valentine's Day gift.

"Aaah… It doesn't matter what it is," said Will, with a slightly pained look on his face. "Don't think about it too much, shortstuff- you'll only get a headache."

"I resent THAT. I do not wish to sound boastful, but my intelligence is on par with YOUR'S."

"Well, that might be true… But, aaah- don't over-analyze this, okay? Just open up the envelope, Dlanor. I don't wanna explain what it is myself."

"… …Alright. Gertrude says I should always accept gifts, so I will do so with this envelope and try to act GRACIOUS. Thank you, Will."

And Dlanor opened the envelope.

She took out the card inside.

She read it.

…It didn't make things clearer. Now, she was even more confused than before.

Despite being 'just a kid', Dlanor was incredibly intelligent. That was why she was such a fearsome first class priest, who drove wedges of logic and deduction into the forms of empyreal witches to reveal the human methods underneath their trickery.

Dlanor was very, very good at getting to the core of a mystery within the shortest amount of time, with the fewest amount of moves.

Therefore... it was rare that any written words could cause her confusion (unless those words happened to exist inside those rather risqué doujins Beato had shown her. Beatrice really was an interesting person).

But Will's card confused Dlanor.

It confused her immensely.

Such a thing only happened once every fifty years or so, so Will was quite privileged to see such a questioning expression on Dlanor's heart-shaped face. Many men would have bitten off their own fingers just to get the slightest glimpse of how adorable a perplexed Dlanor A. Knox looked.

Too bad Will wasn't really into lolis. He didn't appreciate the sight as much as another man would have.

"Why have you given me THIS? I don't understand IT," said Dlanor.

"Lion told me to."

"But New Years' was almost two months AGO."

At this, Will actually shuddered. Was he reliving a painful memory?

…Why were his hands instinctively clutching his behind?

"Lion told me not giving out New Year's cards was unforgivably rude, and even if I gave them out late, it was better late than never... Something like that, anyway. Honestly." Will made a small 'tch' sound of irritation. "That kid takes things like 'manners' so seriously, it's not like those cards even mean all that much. They're just paper."

"I AGREE. I find writing New Years' cards time consuming, but Gertrude tells me it's the polite thing to DO. But, Will…" A small, cat-like smile appeared on Dlanor's face. "You are aware it is another well-celebrated holiday today, aren't YOU?"

Will looked at her blankly. "…No?"

So Dlanor decided to elaborate. "It's Valentine's DAY."

Instantly, Will's face turned pale- at the exact same time Dlanor's impish smile widened slightly.

"It seems, in your attempts to appease Lion by giving me my New Year's card, you forgot what the date today IS. But, do not WORRY. Lion is a very mature and sensible PERSON. I'm sure Lion will not mind that you did not purchase them a GIFT."

Will groaned; his head meeting his hands with a light _thud_.

He could almost feel Lion's fingers descending upon his behind already…

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Happy Valentine's Day!~ I do have a couple more Valentine's shorts to post, involving various characters, so except to see those being added to this collection at various points today ^_^

Oh, and for the record… I doubt Lion would get worked up over a holiday like Valentine's Day; Lion seems far too sensible to worry over something like that. Will is just getting paranoid XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	225. Tasty love

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #225: Tasty love

* * *

><p>"Eh? I don't understand how you can be so happy about this, Shannon!"<p>

"Um… W-well, it's not like I'm happy about it, really…"

Shannon's voice was light and unfocused; the audio equivalent of a blurry photograph. She had never been the world's most attentive person, and that daydreamy tone to her voice was further exemplified when she was busy.

Trying to focus equal amounts of attention on Jessica, and on the pot of gently melting chocolate she was stirring with a wooden spoon, was a difficult task for a scatterbrained girl like Shannon.

The smell of chocolate hung about the kitchen, sweet and soft and not too overbearing; clinging closely to the tip of Shannon's chocolate-covered spoon. There were a few trails of chocolate splashed on Shannon's hands, too, and on her cheek; proof of her endearing clumsiness.

Aaah, if only George could have seen this sight right now, thought Jessica, with a bitter smile. He loved domestic girls like that. The sight of Shannon stirring chocolate probably would've made him fall in love with her aaaall over again, right on the spot, ahaha… …

It was a shame, then, that George wouldn't be able to see how cute Shannon looked when she was that determined on her task.

-He'd never even get to taste the chocolates Shannon was making, either.

Strange…

It was really, really strange… and Jessica didn't understand it at all.

"Why are you trying so hard to make chocolates for a guy who won't even be able to get them?" asked Jessica; drawing her legs up on the stool she was seated on, and wrapping her arms tightly round them. "I really don't get it…"

She pouted; resting her head dejectedly on her knees.

She was feeling pretty down; there was no point denying it. Valentine's Day was tomorrow, and she knew all her friends were obsessed about it; cackling like a coven of witches as they forced homemade chocolates into the hands of their crushes, and sighing over Delsney-ish dreams about being swept up in the arms of their true loves.

But Jessica couldn't get into the holiday spirit.

Not when the one person she really wanted to give chocolates to wouldn't accept them.

Kanon would only say something cryptic about being 'furniture', or a flightless duck, or, o-or something completely bizarre and just plain wrong and really, really _stupid_, and Jessica would get upset and Kanon wouldn't care and then she'd impulsively throw her chocolates down on the floor and stamp on them, and then she'd run off and hide under her bed and cry herself to sleep. Or into an asthma attack.

Whichever came first.

Even if Jessica indulged in soft, light-hearted fantasies, and allowed herself to believe Kanon would accept any chocolates she gave him, she would know it was all an illusion that could never come true. Tormenting herself with an unobtainable future like that would only hurt more.

So, although it might have been selfish… Jessica had secretly hoped Shannon would be upset at the prospect of Valentine's Day, too, given she couldn't see George.

Jessica had hoped they could be unhappy about their love lives together, and maybe have a fun sleepover, like they sometimes did without Natsuhi's knowledge, wailing about love and how much it sucked until the early hours of the morning.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Shannon was smiling happily… and she was still making chocolates for Valentine's Day tomorrow, even though the person she liked couldn't accept them.

Why was she so happy?

Why?

I-it… it wasn't fair…

Jessica was jealous.

She… … was really jealous…

Maybe that was why she said, somewhat nastily, "I know that some girls like to get swept up in the atmosphere of Valentine's Day, and they work really hard to make the guys they like chocolates- but if the guy you like is in Tsukiji, and you're on this tiny little island, it doesn't matter how much love you pour into these chocolates. He's never gonna get them. Love doesn't create miracles, you know."

Shannon's face flushed. "U-um, I-I do know that... T-that's a really harsh way to put it…! But, um… um… W-well, this might sound kind of silly, but…"

It was at this point Shannon stopped stirring her chocolate, and deposited the spoon in the pan with a small _thud_.

Comforting Jessica was more important than stirring the chocolate- even if some of it did get burned.

When Shannon turned about to face Jessica fully, she was smiling. Her smile was radiant; like a halo that illuminated her face; brightening those wide, blue eyes, and those light pink lips, and those flushed, rose-colored cheeks.

Expressions like that on Shannon's face always made Jessica feel even more jealous. It was bad for her self-esteem that her best friend was such a pretty girl, damn it- but when she smiled like that, she looked even prettier!

It was probably really, really cruel… but sometimes, for the sake of her own pride… Jessica wished Shannon was just a little bit uglier.

Just a bit.

Then, she wouldn't have to feel so horribly, unfairly, uncomfortably jealous of her.

"Ahaha… I-I think, maybe, I'm a bit naïve when I come to love- and I don't make much sense, but… Um…" Shannon's blush became a shade or two deeper, and her chocolate-tipped began to fret at the hem of her skirt nervously. "I-I am sad that I can't share tomorrow with George. I-I am... At least, I was at first…

"But, I thought… t-that doesn't really matter! I decided I should be more optimistic, and instead of being upset that I can't see him, I should think about all the wonderful people that I _will _be able to spend tomorrow with? Valentine's Day is about love, but it shouldn't only be for, u-um, l-l-lovers… W-which G-george and I aren't really, anyway… ahaha… B-but… Well…

"I-I love you, too, Milady, for being my friend. And I love Kanon. I love Kumasawa, who's like my mother… and I love Genji- because he might look unapproachable, but he was really nice to me when I first started working on here… A-and, um… maybe I even love Gohda, because he's still a part of this 'family' that I have, and sometimes, even though he can be mean, he treats me like a little sister… hehe… U-um… So… There are lots of people I love, who have a special place in my heart; not just George. So, I thought… I should think about all those people I love… and, even if I can't give my chocolate to George, I could at least give it to all the other wonderful people I care about.

"T-that's why I don't think making chocolate right now is weird… because I want to be thankful for what I have. Not what I don't. I think that's what Valentine's Day should be about."

Silence filled the kitchen.

Jessica looked at Shannon for a few moments.

Then, she let her legs fall back to the floor again with a soft _thud_… and a smile rose to her lips. It wasn't quite as beautiful as Shannon's; and, in fact, it looked rather insincere- and rather sad. Jaded. Melancholic.

Her voice reflected these conflicting emotions in her sad, pitiable smile, when it came from her lips sounded very bittersweet.

"You… you really are an odd girl, Shannon."

"E-eh? I-I'm odd?"

"Yeah. You are. Ahaha… b-because… because…When you talk like that, y-you just make me feel… really, really selfish, and shallow…" Jessica sniffed; wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. "A-and then you make me worry that I don't even deserve a friend like you at all…"

Jessica expected Shannon to fuss and worry, just like the soft, motherly girl she was.

That was why it was such a surprise when Shannon hit her upside the head with the butt of her wooden spoon instead.

"H-hey…? S-shannon, what was that for… …?"

Jessica had been friends with Shannon for a long time- but she had only seen _that _expression on her face on a few occasions. She could count the amount of times it had happened on one hand.

Shannon's eyes were narrowed with determination, and her face was filled with resolve.

Shannon could be incredibly stubborn when she wanted to be. A lot of the time, however, she didn't want to be. That was why it always threw Jessica when Shannon started to argue back with her.

"D-don't be so hard on yourself!" said Shannon, voice authoritative, and… ahaha, she really had gotten a lot bolder since she'd started dating George. It must've been because she was slowly getting used to countering George's teasing, slightly immature way of talking to girls he liked. "Milady… No, Jessica… Jessica, you're my very precious friend, a-and I think you're a wonderful person! So, don't be too hard on yourself! I-I want to give you chocolate because I-I really like you, you see? So, don't act gloomy, and don't act sad. People shouldn't be sad on Valentine's Day!"

This time, it was Jessica's turn to blush.

She opened her mouth, ready to retort- most likely with something trivial, like 'it's not Valentine's Day, it's only the 13th'…

But she couldn't finish.

That was because Shannon and placed the chocolate-covered tip of that wooden spoon into her mouth.

The chocolate was only store bought, which had then been melted. Anybody could do it. It wasn't anything particularly special.

But that chocolate… was still incredibly sweet… … and very heart-warming.

It was probably because of the warmth in her fluttering heart… that Jessica's couldn't stop herself from blushing.


	226. Doxophobia

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #226: Doxophobia

* * *

><p>Cornelia dithered helplessly outside the door of Gertrude's tiny office cubicle.<p>

It was a strange sight indeed. The young third class priest occasionally paused in her tracking back and forth across the well worn carpet, ground down by the heels of her regulation black shoes, to stand before Gertrude's door; knuckles poised just inches away from the well-polished mahogany...

That was as far as she ever got to actually knocking.

Ultimately, her attempts were doomed to failure; just like a frog trying to climb out of a well.

Shrinking back as though burned, she would clutch her hand hastily back to her chest, and resume her restless walk back and forth, back and forth once more.

It was rare for Cornelia to be so indecisive. She might have avoided most conversation whenever possible, but she wasn't particularly shy; she merely didn't get along very well with people.

She was stubborn, her will was unshakable, and she always stood by her convictions.

_Always_.

Cornelia had a very black and white way of looking at things. That made the prospect of executing evildoers a lot simpler for her than her comrades viewed it. It wasn't that she was heartless- she was just very, very solid and steadfast in her convictions. That was a quality all members of Eiserne Jungfrau needed to have; whether it had been imbued in them since birth, or beaten into them through first hand experience sentencing witches.

Cornelia had the right mentality for an executioner already.

A-and yet…

Doing something like this…

It shouldn't have been so hard. It shouldn't have been hard at all. But despite that sound logic, and despite the good advice she kept imparting into her own head to stop worrying and just do it, Cornelia couldn't follow it through.

She couldn't.

The mere thought of it made her face turn redder and redder.

Beheading a witch would have been easier than doing _this_. Work was work, and it was easy to understand, and she could cope with it. Honestly and truly discussing her feelings with another person was, however…

It was something she found difficult.

She probably looked like an idiot; pacing restlessly outside Gertrude's office as though her shoes were filled with drawing pins, with that stupid card and those stupid chocolates held in her hands- why was she doing this, why had she even bothered writing that card or making those chocolates, s-she was so hopeless at almost _everything _she might've put a sewing needle or something in that chocolate mix by mistake, and then what if she _killed Gertrude_, what then?

Granted, the chance of that happening was very, very slim, but horrible and unlikely things _always _happened to Cornelia- so, to her at least, it didn't seem like such a stretch of the imagination.

Maybe she was a pessimist to assume the worst all the time, but, quite sadly, her pessimism typically turned out to be well-founded.

Cornelia's heart began to race in her chest; knocking painfully against her ribs.

It was getting hard to breathe.

Why was she even trying to give chocolate to Gertrude anyway? Valentine's Day was about giving chocolates to people you loved- and Cornelia was _sure _she didn't 'love' Gertrude, n-not like that; she was a good 85% (okay, _80%_) sure she didn't.

It wasn't romantic, she was sure it wasn't.

It was because Gertrude had always been the nicest to her.

When the other priests mocked her for her myriad of errors, or giggled at her behind her back when she messed up, or played mean pranks on her from time to time (swapping her eye drops with liquid paper instantly sprang to mind), Gertrude never indulged in any of that behavior. Gertrude was always kind to her; so understanding, and mature, and almost motherly.

To put it simply: Cornelia liked Gertrude.

She really liked her, and she really appreciated everything Gertrude did for her… and, even though she was only a third class priest who tripped over her own feet from time to time, who couldn't really repay Gertrude's kindness at all- at least, not sufficiently… she could at least try and show Gertrude how she felt. She could at least _try _to thank her.

But, no matter how hard she tried, it was never good enough, was it?

Dubiously, she looked down at the card and the cellophane bag of small, home-made chocolates clutched to her chest.

How much were her feelings worth, anyway?

…Compared to Gertrude… … the feelings of a lowly third class priest like her were probably worth very little.

Hardly anything.

About as much as a speck of dust, a grain of sand, a piece of dirt; a stone, a pebble or a broken seashell washed up on the shore.

It was impudent to even_ think_ about bothering Gertrude by offering her some substandard chocolates and a card filled with incredibly embarrassing, personal sentiments that nobody wanted to hear. Cornelia was being entitled assuming Gertrude had to accept her feelings- or that she had to care about them.

Cornelia… was probably being very selfish.

Besides, shouldn't members of Eiserene Jungfrau strive to control their emotions, so as to better fight against witches in the future? Cornelia cringed; head bowed; yellow ribbons trembling at the slight movement.

She was being stupid again.

She had no right to bother Gertrude.

She had no right, a-and, it was very unprofessional…

And, in the end…

Cornelia wasn't shy.

She was 70% (okay, 60) sure that she wasn't.

But she still wasn't quite brave enough to go through with it.

Later, Gertrude would see the crumpled cellophane wrapper and the card, peeking out at her from the trashcan, buried underneath shredded documents and general rubbish- but she would think nothing of it.

She didn't know just how much Cornelia had agonized over those chocolates before she threw them away.

Nobody would know except Cornelia herself, and she would never mention it.


	227. The language of love

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #227: The language of love

* * *

><p>"<em>Bonjour<em>, Ronove!~"

"_Bonjour_? Is there any particular reason you're speaking in French, Miss Beelzebub?"

"It's the language of _love_, dummy," said Beelzebub, rolling her eyes. "And _moi_ has a present for _tu_~"

"My, that's very flattering," said Ronove, smiling, as he accepted the box of neatly wrapped chocolates from Beelzebub. "I suppose this would be a Valentine's Day gift, correct?"

"_Oui!~_" said Beelzebub, voice sing-song, as she nodded her head. "Count yourself lucky. I don't give handmade chocolate to just anyone, you know~ Fufufu~"

Contrary to the common stereotype of a shy, flustered schoolgirl handing over chocolates to a boy she liked _('I-I made these to the best of my ability, a-and maybe they're not that good, b-but please try them!'_ …it usually went something like that), Beelzebub looked completely calm. She could have been having a conversation about the weather, not her innermost thoughts and feelings, given how casual she sounded.

…Of course, Beelzebub didn't have all that many thoughts beyond the acquisition of food, and the only things she held feelings for were edible.

Ronove knew Beelzebub well enough to work out her real intentions behind giving him those chocolates- and 'romance' was definitely at the bottom of the list. It wasn't even on the list at all.

"I presume you've given me these in anticipation of White Day?"

"Well, _duhh_," was Beelzebub's reply. "It's not like I actually have a crush on you or anything. That'd just be **weird**. No offence."

"None taken."

"But your cooking~ Ooooh, that's something else!" Aahhh, the thought of getting three times that much chocolate from you come White Day is so exciting!~~ I-I don't think I can wait a whole month! Ahhh~~ Just thinking about it… I-I'm in heaven!"

"It's nice to be complimented so highly," said Ronove, smiling, as he wiped the strand of drool from Beelzebub's chin with a tissue. "However… that doesn't necessarily mean I have to accept your chocolate. In that situation, I would have no obligation to return your kindness at all. Hmn~ Now, wouldn't that be a dilemma?"

Instantly, storm clouds passed across Beelzebub's face.

Her eyes narrowed into red slits.

"Oh, you _will_ accept my chocolate. You will accept it, and you will eat it, and you will _enjoy it_, because I **hate** cooking and I actually worked **hard** on those! If you throw my love back in my face then I will pull every strand of your mustache out right now, you see if I don't! Then we'll see whose laughing! And my laughter is better than yours' anyway; gyahahahahahahahaha!~"

"Indeed… Your love is quite a scary thing, Miss Beelzebub. If that's the case… I suppose it's a good thing I'm _not _on the receiving end of your 'romance'."

Beelzebub smiled sweetly. "That's the spirit!~ So, about our White Day negotiations… Ooh, and while we talk, can I have a few bits of chocolate? It doesn't taste as good if you're eating something you made yourself, but I wasn't kidding when I said I worked hard on those. I think I'll need a sugar rush while I talk you through exactly what repayment I want, 'kay?"

Ronove couldn't help but laugh at that.

Only Beelzebub could turn Valentine's Day into a business meeting.

French was entirely wasted on a girl like her.


	228. Deception

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #228: Deception

* * *

><p>"Just so you know, I didn't work hard on these or anything at all! I bought them from the store. It's not like I'd want to craft them by hand for a lazy guy like you," she said proudly. There wasn't a trace of remorse or guilt in her voice.<p>

She wasn't even embarrassed.

He laughed at her bold comment and took her proffered box of chocolates; smiling a small smile. She was right, of course. These had definitely been bought from a store. She'd even left the price tag on the box.

If another girl had done this, he would've been surprised. Because this was Erika, however, he hadn't expected any less.

Actually, he hadn't expected to get any chocolates at all- but that was a moot point now.

Erika was brutally honest about everything. She never lied; not even to make herself look better, or to comfort and console others. Some people called her insensitive, cruel and even malicious for this- but he didn't see it like that.

He thought she was a funny girl.

Furudo Erika, with her brazen attitude, obvious arrogance, and her very cute face that didn't match up with her personality, really was funny.

"Thank you, Erika," he said, with faux politeness. "Thank you for spending all of four hundred yen on me. It's to know our relationship is worth that much to you."

Erika smirked; arms folded. "Well, maybe if you got a haircut I'd have been prepared to spend an extra hundred yen or so- but you refuse, so I didn't. Your hair looks completely ridiculous, by the way."

"Thanks, so does yours."

"Humph! How rude. But I like people who speak their mind~"

He rolled his eyes in good humor. "You weird, weird girl."

"Ufufufu~ And what are you going to do about that, huuuuh?"

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe something like _this_?"

Suddenly, he jumped into action. If this conversation was a chess match, this quick, decisive blow would've been a powerful move; strong enough to break through any opponents' ranks and send the king running.

Taking hold of the red ribbon of Erika's sailor suit uniform, he swiftly pulled her down to his eye level; dragging her across the top of his desk. Still grinning wolfishly, returning her challenging smirk with one of his own, he used his free hand, and began to roughly tousle her hair.

The cute squeals, shouts and cries of 'u-unhand me, you idiot!' really were _sooo _cute he couldn't help but play around with her hair just a little more, hihihi~

When he finally released Erika, her face was a little redder than usual, and she seemed to sway slightly on her feet as she tried to regain her balance, as though drunk.

Her glare could have cut through ice.

"Idiot."

He stuck out his tongue in return. "Bigger idiot."

She pulled a face.

He pulled a more hideous one back.

Then, they both started to laugh.

"So," said Erika, once her giggles had subsided somewhat, "aren't you going to eat your chocolates? I bought them just for you~ Ah, no wait… that's a lie~" She tapped a finger against her lower lip, reconsidering. "Those dirt cheap chocolates had a special offer on them, buy one get two free, 'cause nobody wanted to buy them; not even with Valentine's Day approaching. They must have been a huge failure, ahaha~ So I thought, if I bought a box, I'd be able to pick up two free boxes for me, too~ I wasn't really worried about whether you liked them or not; that comes completely secondary to my own happiness, ahahaha~ But it's the thought that counts, riiiight?"

He smirked. "The thought? Oh, yeah- the thought. Because you're _such _a thoughtful girl."

Erika smiled at this, and daintily took either side of her school skirt, bowing in a small curtsey.

"Heh. Cute. I dunno why you'd want two packs of these for yourself anyway," he said, indicating the (now slightly crumpled) box of chocolates. "At a price like that, they're gonna taste _awful_."

"Indeed- but I like eating cheap food. It makes me laugh to think of all the stupid people who bought chocolates triple the price for this inane holiday, for less quantity!~ Ahahaha! It's such a thrill~ I get such a sense of superiority and a reaffirmation of my own intelligence when I think of the idiots who bought such expensive chocolate to throw at boys who probably don't even like them. It's a wonderful feeling. Don't you understaaaand?"

He couldn't help but burst into laughter again at this.

Erika was a weird, weird girl.

Judging by the looks a few female classmates were now shooting Erika, her harsh words were really pissing them off. They must've spent a loooot of money picking out Valentine's chocolates for their crushes, so to have Erika casually dismiss their efforts like that must have stung.

They were probably jealous an awful girl like Erika, who shamelessly bought such cheap chocolates, had such a hot boyfriend, hihihi~

"Alright, fine. Whatever. I'll eat these awful, awful chocolates," he said; too familiar with Erika's antics to be bemused, but still charmed by them just enough of find them funny. "But, not right now."

At this, Erika's face fell slightly. Her mirth vanished.

"Hm? Why not? Don't you want them?"

"No, I don't- but I _will_ eat them anyway, because they're from you. How many guys can say they've received chocolate from Furudo Erika? Even shitty chocolate? I'm surprised you bothered at all, hihihi~ Buuut, well." He smiled. "I just ate lunch, you see? I'm not hungry. I'll take these and eat them later, okay? If my stomach's not completely empty, I won't be able to savor their awful-ness properly, hihihi~"

Conflicting emotions shifted across Erika's face at that. Her features rearranged themselves, until they betrayed a clear sense of…

Was that disappointment?

Despite her bold words, was she really sad… that he wasn't eating her chocolates?

Maybe there was a little more 'heart' in those chocolates than even Erika herself fully realized. She probably wanted him to eat her gift, and tease her about it, and then they would laugh together; trading insults and generally acting unpleasant, as they always did.

But he hadn't done that.

He'd probably destroyed some cute fantasy Erika had created that she hadn't fully realized she possessed herself. Not until he ruined it, at any rate.

But her darkened expression didn't last for long.

She smiled.

Then, her smile turned into a smirk.

"Alright, alright. It's fine. I understand. You'll appreciate those chocolates better on an empty stomach, ahahaha~ Tell me what you thought of them tomorrow, okay?"

"Oh, I will… I'll give you my fuuull on honest opinion of how terrible they'll be, hihihihi…~"

He grinned to himself as he watched Erika leave the classroom, waving to him over her shoulder as she did so. The moment she left, the room began to buzz with comments from jaded girls about just how much they despised that girl.

Hahaha… it really was funny.

Erika was such an intelligent girl; but she was so dense when it came to the ways of love.

She thought he would truly eat those horrible chocolates?

Pfffft.

Erika was fun to be with, and she was, admittedly, incredibly attractive. He really did enjoy his time spent with her.

It wasn't a lie to say he liked her.

He did like her.

But she was deluding herself if she thought he liked her as much as she liked him.

He might have been old-fashioned… but those really nice, home made chocolates he'd received that morning were a lot more delicious than anything Erika could give him.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** And so ends the Valentine's Day oneshots. I hope they're all distinct and unique enough to be enjoyable, even though they're about the same theme ^_^;;  
>Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day, again ^_^<br>I hope you had fun. And if you didn't, I hope it was fairly average, and these stories cheered you up ^_^

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	229. EXTRA: A letter from Zepar and Furfur

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #229: A letter from Zepar and Furfur

* * *

><p><strong>It's a tragedy, my darling Furfur!<strong>

It's so tragic I could weep, my lovely Zepar!

**Miss **_**Renahhchen**_**, the wordsmith who has crafted these turbulent tales of comedy, romance, depression and despair-**

-has completely failed to include us in her short collection of Valentine's Day tales! Isn't that right, Zepar?

**That is right, Furfur!**

Aaah, Zepar! How awful!

**How cruel!**

How sad!

**How heart-breaking!**

For shame!

**And agony!**

And despair!

**And death?**

How will we survive the grief?

**You see, we really have noooo problem being pushed to the sidelines in the other stories encompassed in this collection.**

After all, we're only the MCs! *giggle giggle*

**That's right, Furfur, that's right~ We stand in the sidelines-**

-looking beautiful-

**-and commentate~ Our interest as characters is only founded-**

-when we react with others-

**-and although we do love a spot of drama-**

-we've always found it more enjoyable to act as spectators and watch the actors!

**Ufufufu~ You see? Even though we were given the best character song in the whole series-**

-_Kina No Kaori ~ Ai No Shiren_, for those curious! You should listen to it and be blessed by the beautiful cadences of our lovely voices! Ahahaha!**  
><strong>  
><strong>That's right, that's right~ Our voices really do blend perfectly together, don't they?~ Mine low, yours' high, mixed together…<strong>  
><strong><br>**Just like milk chocolate and dark, ufufufufu~

**And what human can resist chocolate? Chocolate is second only to romance; and even then, it may make a rather suitable substitute, ufufu~ Hence why so many lonely people on Valentine's Day eat it in such great quantities~**

Aaaah, Zepaaar~ Now I just want to eat you uuup like a bar of chocolate right nooow! A-aah, but I digress! Sorry to distract you, Zepar~

**No problem, Furfur~ Now, where was I? Aaah, yes, ufufu~ Although we have the best character song and the most colorful designs, we're incredibly modest about how wonderful we are!~**

So modest, even, that we are perfectly willing to let other characters step upon the beautifully crafted stage that flows from your words, _Miss Renahhchen,_and stand in the shadows ourselves~

**Although it iiiis a shame we have to stand in the shadows, given how bright our costumes are, ehehehe~**_  
><em>_  
><em>However… ufufufu…

**Miss _Renahhcheeeeen_~ We have a slight problem with your last collection of your stories~**

*giggle giggle giggle*  
><em><br>_**Being the demons of love, should it not have been us your Valentine's Day stories focused on?**

Should we not have been the painted cupids who brought pairs of lovers together to experience sweet, chocolate-flavored, sugar-sprinkled romances? Oh, swoon!~

**Should we not have had some small role to play in your Valentine's tales? Even Ryukishi included us in some extra TIPs, despite our poor placing on the popularity rankings!**

Surely he is a man who understands just how important the heart is!

**Yes, the heart is more important than popularity! Well said, Furfur!**

I'm only able to speak so well as I do because you support me so unfailingly, Zepar!

**You see? This is the true power of love!**

Love does not envy-

**-and love does not boast!**

Love is eternal and it should be extolled!

**So why oh why were we, ergo, love, neglected so badly neglected in your Valentine's tales?**

Why were so many of them so depressing? T-they were so sad, I felt a tear rise to my eye! U-uwaaah~

**If we were involved in your Valentine's collection, we guarantee your stories would have been more beautiful, more sincere and far, far more heart-felt!**

We guarantee this as Zepar and Furfur, proud demons of Hell!

**Please, don't forget the heart, Miss **_**Renahhchen!**_

Please, don't forget us, Miss _Renahhchen!_

**And please ensure you give us, the ever charming demons of love, a little more screen time next time issues of love and romance are brought up! *giggle giggle giggle***

Zepar and I may look beautiful-

**-but all roses have thorns-**

-and if you underestimate us-  
><em><br>_**-then you might find yourself-**

-in a bit of a predicament!~

**If you don't comply, we hope you enjoy being single for the rest of your life, with only a bar of chocolate (and not even the nice kind!) for company!**

Together, with our powers combined, we may be able to give love, but we can also take it away just as easily!

***giggle giggle giggle***

ufufufufu**ahahahahaha**kyakaykya**gyahahaha!~**

**We hope sincerely you take our advice on board-**

-and let these two humble, modest characters who address you now through written word a chance to take center stage in your stories once in a while~

**Have some love!~**

Write from the heart!~

_**Remember, without love it cannot be seen!**_

_Signed,_

Furfur, the 34th demon of Hell**  
><strong>_and_  
><strong>Zepar, the 16<strong>**th**** demon of H###/… **(here the words become indistinct, and spots of ink are spattered across the parchment. Most likely, the elegant fountain pen used to write this message broke, releasing ink spots across the page; perhaps because Zepar was pressing down on the pen too hard to distinguish their handwriting from Furfur's.)

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Aaah, an extra not placed in the correct spot… The Valentine's day stories kind of ate up the proper place where this one should've been put, ahaha XD  
>I was pondering how to write a letter from these two demons, and then I just decided I should make them write it together. It should be fairly obvious what's going on? This was kind of experimental, gomen if it doesn't work out...<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	230. Everything's better with bunnies

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #230: Everything's better with bunnies

* * *

><p>She might have been a cruel, ruthless, sadistic person, with a perverse enjoyment at creating the most undignified deaths which bordered on insane...<p>

"Aaaah, you're so cuuuute!"

...but, despite all that, she was still a young girl.

She would perpetually be a young girl, forever and ever- for she was the embodiment of Ushiromiya Eva's childhood hopes and dreams, so she could not get old. She could not age. She could not mature.

And she could not learn.

That made her worth fearing.

And yet, despite her terrible, twisted personality... she was still strangely innocent, too. When her personality matched her appearance, with her cute bob haircut and pretty dress, it was almost impossible to believe she had committed such a string of atrocities across the island of Rokkenjima. Instead, she was acting...

Well.

She was acting her age.

She was a young girl having fun.

"Nyeheh! Lady Beatrice, don't touch my ears, don't touch them! They're really sensitive!"

"Ooh, really? Reaaaally?" Eva-Beatrice giggled in delight. Her voice was light and teasing, but not a trace of malice shone through to taint it. "Really, really? You shouldn't have told me that, now I just want to do it even more! Hehehe!~"

"N-nyeeeeh! I-it tickles, it really tickles, it- nihihihi! S-stop it, stop it, stop it!"

"No waaaaaaay! I just want to play with your fluffy ears forever and ever; aaah, they're so nice and soft, ahahaha~ I always wanted a pet rabbit, but mom never let me..." Momentarily, a small shadow crossed her face. "Mom was way too strict- taking out all her anger on _me _just 'cause dad hated her guts. What a selfish woman. All I wanted was a rabbit, or some kind of cute pet. It'd be better company than my stupid family, it would, yeah, it definitely would! Urgh, when I think about it, it pisses me off! I was never allowed to have _anything_ I wanted, and then I was scolded for being selfish! But..."

Her voice trailed off. There was a small pause.

Then, very slowly... Eva-Beatrice smiled.

And she began to giggle.

It was a very light, innocent and carefree sound.

"Hehehe~ Well, it doesn't matter now. I'm a witch, so I can have whatever I want! I can have a cute bunny if I really want to- yeah, that's just what I've got! I've two cute rabbits to play with aaaaall to myself, ahahaha! Hey, 45!"

45 jumped slightly and saluted, standing to attention. "Y-yes Milady?"

"Come over here! I wanna play with you too! It's not fair if I leave you out, is iiiit?"

"Yeah, come over here, 45, nyeheheh... Come over here and take my place," said 410 weakly, as she reached a limp arm forwards to her pink-haired comrade. With her pale skin, dull eyes and slow movements, she looked a little like a zombie, reaching out to 45 so she could steal her brain. "I-I think I've been played with a little too much... nyeheh..."

45 gave a small 'eep' of fright.

Eva-Beatrice, meanwhile, cackled, and prodded 410 in the side.

"Nooo! That's not fair! I've wanted a bunny for years and years! I'm going to play with you lots and lots, a whole three years' worth of playtime, until your ears fall off and your body splits apart! Gyahahaha!"

410 began to wail in despair, her eyes welling with tears.

"Aaah, I'm really going to die! I'm going to be cuddled to death! Uwaaaaaaaah! I-I least wanted to be run through with one of Virgilia's magic spears or poisoned by her horrible mackerel curry or something cool like that! Uwaaaah!"

* * *

><p>"Urgh! It's not fair!"<p>

"You don't think anything's fair, Leviathan," said Lucifer, quite correctly.

"B-but this really isn't fair!" the Stake of Envy wailed. "Lady Beatrice is so nice to the Chiester sisters, but she's really, really mean to us! I-I don't know why! We're every bit as talented as they are, aren't we? B-but she always acts really affectionate to them, a-and just insults us!" Levia sniffed. "She keeps calling me 'useless furniture', a-and she summoned me a while ago just to shout at me and pull my hair... i-it's... really not fair..."

"Aah... Um, there there?" said Lucifer awkwardly.

She was a little unsure at how to comfort her younger sister. Lucifer hated Eva-Beatrice as well, but both stakes knew first hand how cruel she could be, so it wasn't like she could irresponsibly say 'don't worry, it'll be okay.' There was no guarantee it would.

"U-um... but I had an idea!" said Leviathan, wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes.

"Oh? What's your idea, little sis?"

"U-um, well... Lady Beatrice says she really likes cute bunnies, so, um... I-I think is this a dumb idea, but..." Leviathan flushed in embarrassment, toeing the ground nervously with the point of one boot. "Um... maybe we could, I don't know... wear bunny ears ourselves? T-then maybe she'd think we're cute, a-and she wouldn't be so mean!"

Lucifer's face turned deathly pale at the very thought.

H-her, wear bunny ears? Ridiculous! I-if she did something so silly, Chiester 410, with her annoying smirks and little 'nyeheheh's, would definitely make fun of her! 410 would tease her until the trumpets for the apocalypse sounded and fire rained from the sky!

N-no way!

No way no way no way!

Lucifer absolutely would _not _degrade herself like that, not even if it made Eva-Beatrice a little nicer to her- a-and anyway, she might not be nicer at all! S-so why should Lucifer of Pride, the oldest of the seven sisters, humiliate herself and wear a pair of bunny ears on the very slim off chance it would make Eva-Beatrice just a teensy-tiny bit friendlier?

She wouldn't!

She refused!

"W-well, um, I don't know," said Lucifer, "I'm a proud Stake of Purgatory, not one of those annoying little upstart bunny girls! B-besides, I don't think the Chiesters are necessarily having a better time than we are..."

Leviathan sighed, shoulders slumping, a little crestfallen that her _master plan _had been met with rejection. That was the case with all her master plans, though, so she wasn't really surprised. She had a dull sense of disappointment instead.

She'd only wanted to help... but she wasn't very smart, and whenever she tried, her ideas were always shot down.

"Oh? Why'd you think the Chiesters are having a bad time, Luci? Lady Beatrice doesn't slap them, or pull their hair, or call them useless..." A small sniff. "O-or ugly..." Another sniff. "O-or eyesores... ..."

Lucifer's lips pursed slightly. Had Eva-Beatrice really said all those things to Leviathan? That... was really unacceptable! Sure, the seven sisters bickered like that almost every day, but they were allowed. They were family, and it was natural that close sisters would argue like that. When _strangers_ started to throw insults at them, however, it was complete different.

An attack on Leviathan equalled an attack on the Seven Stakes of Purgatory as a whole- and that made Lucifer's blood boil.

Stupid little girl playing at being a witch.

Stupid, stupid _brat._

Trying to keep her voice calm, Lucifer said consolingly, "Well, Lady Beatrice might be cruel to you... but her kindness isn't exactly desirable, either."

"What do you mean?"

Lucifer smiled a rather mean smile, and giggled.

"Kekeke~ Have you _seen _Chiester 410? She looks _awful_- like part of her soul has died. Lady Beatrice is playing with her so much I think her limbs might fall off, ahaha~ I think it's better Lady Beatrice ignores us, mostly. We're the lucky ones, okay?"

Leviathan, who knew of Lucifer's long-standing rivalry between 410, could tell from Lucifer's triumphant tone of voice her sister was going to use this humiliation against 410 in the future. The unusually childish, mocking tone of Lucifer's voice (she always acted like a kid around 410) made Leviathan smile...

And then she began to giggle, too.

"Hehehe~ Well, maybe you're right... Maybe we are the lucky ones after all."

"That's right, that's right. Your smart big sister is always right, kekeke~" Lucifer giggled childishly once more. "Aaah, but you know what?"

"What, Luci?"

"If you're really that upset about Lady Beatrice's mistreatment of you, and you're _really _desperate to use your bunny ears plan... Then I know _just _the person we can try it out on~"

Lucifer smiled eerily.

She wasn't going to let that horrible, horrible bully make her sisters cry.

As the big sister, it was Lucifer's job to ensure her little sisters were happy... even at the expense of others~

That was how family worked.

* * *

><p>"Pffft... ahahaha! Y-yeah, t-that's adorable! That's really... adorable! Ahahaha!"<p>

Lucifer was laughing loudly and unabashedly, arms wrapped round her stomach, as tears beaded in her eyes. Mammon, Beelzebub and Asmodeus were also laughing- whilst Satan was pretending to be angry at the noise they were making, but was really trying not to giggle, and even the ever-serious Belphegor was smiling softly.

"Ahaha, Ronove~ I never thought I'd see you looking so cuuute!~" Beelzebub cooed. "Aww, I really wanna take you home!"

"No, I wanna take him home!" retorted Mammon.

"I-it was my idea in the first place! I should get to take him home!" was Leviathan's retort- but she wasn't angry at all. She was laughing too hard at the strange sight before her to be angry.

Ronove, meanwhile, looked at the seven sisters bemusedly... but decided not to comment.

Earlier, Lucifer had asked him to do a favor for her on behalf of the morale of her sisters. Even though that favor came at the price of sacrificing a few scraps of self-respect and dignity, Ronvoe didn't really mind. He, too, wanted to ensure the seven sisters were cheerful. They'd been ground down horribly under Eva-Beatrice's unforgivably cruel treatment of them thus far, to the point where even Asmodeus had lost her smile, Beelzebub no longer had enough energy to whine for food, and Satan didn't even feel like shouting.

If doing something this silly could cheer them up so much... then it was fine.

After all, everything was a lot, lot more fun when everybody was cheerful.

So, Ronove shrugged his shoulders, and laughed softly with everybody else.

Even if the fluffy bunny ears Lucifer had asked him to wear did make him look completely ridiculous.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Ah, thank you _Fan of Games _for showing an interest in my ask blog! Of course you can take part, it's more fun when more people ask stuff, ahaha ^_^;; However, um… I think, even without a tumblr acc, it's possible to submit questions using anonymous? It would make answering these questions a little easier you submitted them all individually directly to my account. You can submit them here:

http : / / askthe7sisters . tumblr . com/ask

If you can't submit 'em I'll answer them anyway, but it's just easier to reply if they're all submitted through the ask feature on tumblr ^_^

(oh, and before I forget… If people haven't already, they should read _Fan of Games' _umineko oneshot collection, _I can't_, which features Belphegor. It's really cute and funny, I love those stories ^_^)

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	231. Clothes make the man

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #231: Clothes make the man

* * *

><p>As Natsuhi stood there in the middle of the lounge, attired in a tight fitting pink shirt, short blue skirt, and <em>striped socks<em>, no less (w-weren't those something rebellious teenagers wore?), she couldn't help but feel ever so slightly ridiculous. These types of clothes, so-called 'fashionable clothes', were completely unfitting on her!

Natsuhi didn't want to be 'fashionable'. She wanted to be practical. She liked long skirts that fell to the floor, hiding her legs, and shirts with sleeves. Clothes like that gave her a more austere appearance, and it firmly showed the servants that she was their superior.

Clothes like this, however…

They made Natsuhi feel horribly exposed.

These were probably the sorts of clothes Jessica wore when she was with her friends.

A-aah, if Jessica returned from the beach with George, Maria and Shannon now, a-and saw her mother dressed like this, she'd never stop laughing. Jessica would laugh so hard she started to cry.

Natsuhi's pride would be in tatters.

But Jessica didn't even need to be there for people to laugh at Natsuhi. Rudolf was laughing quite enough on her behalf.

"Ahahaha! Looks like my idea was a damn good one, Rosa," he said, with a mean smirk. "I was right when I said, underneath all those frumpy skirts and shirts, Natsuhi would be really, really cute, wasn't I?"

Natsuhi's face turned pink.

She wasn't the sort of person who would curse others- especially not members of the Ushiromiya family, to whom she was indebted greatly, but… B-but…

D-damn Rudolf.

Damn him and his arrogant smirk and his slightly lecherous gaze.

If he'd never given Rosa that idea, then Natsuhi would never have ended up in this embarrassing state!

To clarify- Natsuhi was wearing clothes different from the norm as a favor to Rosa. Somehow Rudolf, who had always been the closest sibling to Rosa, had managed to wheedle out of his baby sister that her fashion company, Anti Rosa, was facing some monetary troubles. Rosa naturally wanted to hide this fact from her older siblings, who would doubtlessly mock their stupid younger sister's failed attempts at running a business- but Rudolf's skills at extracting sensitive information from woman extended even to his own family members.

Rosa trusted Rudolf more than she trusted Eva or Krauss, and she had ended up confiding in him. Rosa had told Rudolf that she needed to cut some corners and save some money in her business to keep it afloat… but she wasn't sure how.

That was when Rudolf suggested Rosa use Natsuhi to model her latest designs- which, fortunately, Rosa just so happened to bring with her to the family conference as she needed to do a little more work on them.

"I mean, Natsuhi's really, really attractive," Rudolf had said, sniggering, as Natsuhi's face turned redder and redder. "It might not look it, but underneath all those clothes I'm sure she's got a loooot of nice curves, hihihi~ And as for those breasts-"

"Men at your age shouldn't talk about a woman's chest like that!" Rosa had snapped back, embarrassed on Natsuhi's behalf (who had been so flustered she couldn't say anything), hitting Rudolf over the head.

"O-ooow… My little sister sure packs a punch, ahaha…"

"You deserve it," Rosa said, sighing. "It's alright when a kid like your Battler talks about women like that 'cause he doesn't know any better- and I imagine he picked that lousy attitude up from you, anyway."

"Well, he's not gonna pick anything up from me anymore, given he's buggered off to go live with his grandparents…"

"Yes- and I'm sorry about that, but that's not the issue here. When a man of your age still objectifies women like that, Rudolf, I really can't stand it!"

"Yeah, yeah. You've made your point. I was juuust trying to give Natsuhi a _compliment_, that's all," had said Rudolf, rubbing his head. Rosa had hit him hard enough to seriously hurt. "Eva calls her cute all the time, you know."

"Because Natsuhi is cute. But you're not allowed to say that; you're married to Kyrie."

At this, Natsuhi's eyes had widened comically, and she'd just about been able to choke out, "C-cute? I-I'm not, I… I'm a grown woman, and-"

"No, Rosa and Eva are right. You're cute," said Rudolf, giving her a thumbs up. "Really, really cute. Especially when you look all embarrassed like that aaaaand- aaahahaha…" But his voice trailed off when he saw Rosa readying her fist again. "I-I mean, you look nice. But I'm a married man, and you're a married woman, and I think my hot-blooded little sister is going to break my nose if I keep playing at being a nice guy, so I'm just gonna quit while I'm ahead."

Rosa smirked; evidently pleased that, for the first time in however many years, she'd finally managed to get one up over her older siblings.

"Good."

And Rudolf had laughed at that, ruffling Rosa's hair.

Natsuhi hadn't really paid it much heed before, but Rosa and Rudolf, who still squabbled like school children on occasions, really were close. It made her feel just a little jealous at times. Natsuhi had always wanted to be in a big family, with lots of brothers or sisters.

Natsuhi hadn't expected Rosa to take Rudolf's jokey suggestion seriously; not after she'd hit him like that.

But, unfortunately…

"Ahaha~ Maybe my stupid big brother is right about some things!" said Rosa happily, as she clapped her hands together. "Natsuhi, you do look very pretty! It's almost as if these clothes were made for you!"

…Rosa _had _taken Rudolf's suggestion seriously.

She'd taken it very seriously indeed.

Natsuhi sighed and looked down at the heavily patterned, highly expensive carpet, her face turning redder and redder.

Natsuhi wished she'd refused Rosa's request… but when Rosa had asked her, oh so hopefully, if she wouldn't mind modelling one her new outfits just for a little bit, and it would really, really help her out… Well. Natsuhi wasn't really used to people depending on her, so it had felt… quite nice…

It was embarrassing yes, but she had liked it… Natsuhi had always wanted to be more involved in the Ushiromiya family, but Eva's snide comments always made her feel like a stranger; an outcast- even after fifteen years had passed.

But when Rosa asked her for her help, smiling softly, as though they were real friends, real family… that had been so flattering Natsuhi couldn't refuse.

How could she refuse Rosa when she looked so hopeful?

So now, here she was; dressed in a silly outfit, with a heavy blush on her face.

I-It couldn't get any worse.

And then the door to parlor was opened, and shut with a small _slam.  
><em>

"I'm back from looking about the rose garden, ufufu~ Natsuhi, I hope you have some tea prepared- aaaah… …? No? What's thiiiis? I didn't realize we were having a fancy dress party! If I'd have known I'd have dug out my old middle school sailor suit, ahahaha!"

Ahahaha…

Hahahahahaha.

No.

Of course it could get worse.

Things could _always _get worse.

…Eva would probably be laughing at her about this for_ months._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **crossposted from my tumblr, I do hope nobody minds? I wonder if an update like this is a lazy one, ahaha...


	232. Birdbrain

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #232: Birdbrain

* * *

><p>It wasn't a turn of phrase. This sad, sorry sight was, quite literally, something that the cat had dragged in.<p>

The poor creature was dying.

One of its wings had been bent back at an awkward angle; snapped, just like a piece of firewood. Its plump, feathered body was littered with claw marks. Its beady black eyes seemed… strangely downcast, almost distant.

It trembled in her hands like a weak chick just hatched from an egg- but she knew this bird was not emerging into the world. It was ready to leave it.

That poor seagull didn't stand a chance.

Bernkastel sighed as she cradled the small, broken bird in her hands; holding it against her chest. Her head was bowed, casting a shadow over the seagull, and strands of her long blue hair fell forwards from behind her ears to brush against its white-to-grey gradient of feathers gently.

The bird gave a soft chirp. Perhaps it was expressing some form of gratitude, or maybe it was a mere noise of pain.

It was difficult to tell.

Communicating with a dumb animal that couldn't talk was a waste of Bernkastel's time.

And yet, as the Witch of Miracles surveyed the ruined haze of bloody feathers, her purple eyes did not seem quite so empty or expressionless as per usual. Her eyes were usually blank, like the monochrome surface of black tea- but now, it would appear somebody had finally decided to mix some milk into that bitter expression, to sweeten it somewhat.

Bernkastel's indigo irises were strangely cloudy as she surveyed that bird.

…Still.

Her lip curled slightly.

Dripping milk into her eyes?

That was a strange metaphor. It sounded like some weird punishment game worthy of Lambdadelta. After the milky, creamy torture of slowly being turned blind, would that annoying girl then proceed to stick a straw in the vitreous fluid in the pocket at the back of her eye socket, jostling the eyeball out the way, and suck on it like a child with a box of juice?

How disgusting.

If Lambdadelta knew how sentimental Bernkastel was getting over a silly bird one of her cat familiars had savaged, she'd surely laugh at her. Then she'd say something like 'oooh, my Bern is soooo cute!~', and wrap her arms round 'her Bern's' middle; rest her blonde head on Bern's shoulder; engulf Bernkastel in her sickly sweet smell of cake and candies and maybe give her a small kiss on the cheek.

Lambdadelta would understand.

Bernkastel rarely had any sympathy to spare for others. She enjoyed throwing people into the darkest pits of hell with her own hands. Making others miserable was her bread and butter.

It was her reason for being alive.

And yet, despite that…

Despite Bernkastel's cruelty… this small, gently dying bird reached out to her- and its soft chirps were enough to twist her barely beating heart, blackened from abuse, inside her ribcage.

That poor, pathetic creature was going to die.

It knew it was going to die.

It was so lost, and lonely, and helpless… but, even so, it was still trying to cling to life- although it must have known how pointless it all was. Stupid as this animal surely was, the pain of death must have tripped some wire in its head that alerted it to its own impeding demise.

That bird… reminded Bernkastel of a girl.

A girl who had looked like her, but wasn't her.

That girl _wasn't _her.

Bernkastel had transcended all that pain and suffering and emerged as a strong and powerful witch, who could scorn and look down on the weak because she had been weak once upon a time, too.

She wasn't weak anymore.

But, once upon a time… a girl who looked a lot like her, who even possessed her beautiful blue hair, had been weak.

She had been in the exact same position as that silly seagull.

"Tch. How bothersome."

Things that made her remember her past were filthy, disgusting- she hated them all. She wanted to wipe her past away; forget it ever happened- distance herself from _that girl_ as much as possible.

She hated that weak, useless girl.

And she hated weak, useless animals, too.

"You probably knew this was coming, anyway…"

And, with a small, anticlimactic _crunch, _she broke the bird's neck between her pale fingers.


	233. Guardian angels

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #233: Guardian angels

* * *

><p>"S-so, you're sure the bad witch won't come and get me?" asked young five-year-old Ange. The blankets were pulled up under her chin, her nervous little face peeping out over the top. Blinking, she asked sincerely, "The witch isn't hiding under the bed, or in the closet, o-or waiting for me outside, is she?"<p>

Shannon sighed softly as she ran a comforting hand through Ange's red hair. Ange's favorite hair ornaments, those pink plastic little baubles, were still fixed in the young girl's hair, even though they must have been slightly uncomfortable to sleep in. Shannon had remonstrated with Ange briefly over the pros of taking them off and putting them in the bedside cabinet for safe keeping, but Ange refused. She was very, very stubborn about the cute gifts her beloved big brother had given her, and refused to relinquish them.

"Besides," Ange had said seriously, "those hair bobbles repel bad magic- big sister Maria said! Maria said objects with a lot of senti… senti… centrifugal value can repel witches!"

"I think you sentimental…?"

"I-I know what I mean!"

Shannon had smiled at this, and hadn't tried to argue with Ange further. The rumor about Beatrice was one even Shannon found herself believing in. It was difficult not to, when she constantly found the windows in the hallways left wide open even though she swore she had already locked them; allowing rain water to soak the carpet on stormy nights.

Beatrice's portrait gave such an air of grace and majesty it felt almost sacrilegious, in Shannon's mind, to claim the witch didn't exist. The witch in the picture didn't look like the kind of woman who would take slander of her name lightly.

It made sense for Ange, who normally acted so sensible (she was probably trying to emulate Kyrie), to get just a little bit frightened of the Witch of Rokkenjima, given the atmosphere that surrounded her. Maria's cheerful stories about the witch, and her awesome magic, and her demon friends, couldn't have helped.

Neither did the stormy weather outside.

It was the perfect kind of chilling atmosphere for a ghost story to take place.

Shannon wasn't too surprised that Ange was scared- even if Ange was curled up in bed besides Maria for protection ("M-maria can protect me from the witch, s-she's an apprentice witch herself!"). Maria had already fallen asleep, anyway; her dark lashes contrasting against her pale skin, lips parted slightly and curved into a small smile.

She must have been heaving a pleasant dream far removed from Rokkenjima. Perhaps, in her mind, she was playing in the fabled Golden Land with Beatrice, and her bunny rabbit friends?

Ange, unfortunately, was deeply rooted in the world of the living. She could not sleep. She was too afraid.

Shannon had been instructed by Madam to tuck Maria and Ange in for bed, but Shannon could hardly leave Ange awake like this, worried about the witch; perhaps straining to hear her ethereal footsteps tapping down the hallway, or hear a soft cackle- or maybe even catch a golden butterfly shimmering above her head.

Maybe Shannon could soothe Ange's nerves by talking to her?

She had to try.

Shannon's kind heart refused to leave a little girl like Ange alone in the dark, trembling.

"You see, Milady," said Shannon softly, in a motherly tone akin to Kumasawa's, "the witch isn't cruel."

"S-she isn't?"

"No. Sometimes, she may play little tricks on people, like tripping them up or stacking up the saucepans in the kitchen, but she's not mean. She just wants to play with everybody, because she's bored- and very lonely." She smiled. "It must be sad, not being able to communicate with other humans, hm? The witch just wants to make friends."

"J-just wants… to make friends…" Ange repeated slowly, ponderously. "Big sis Maria says the witch is her friend, too- s-so maybe the witch isn't that scary?"

"No, she isn't scary. She isn't at all," said Shannon firmly- or, at least, as firmly as a soft-spoken girl like Shannon could mange. She giggled. "I'm very jealous of Miss Maria for being able to see an incredible witch like that, ahaha~ I wish my wavelength matched with the witch's. Then, maybe she would talk to me, instead of playing pranks on me all the time… like stealing my keys… … haau… I-I hate it when that happens?"

"Are you sure it's a witch who steals your keys? I think that's because Shannon is clumsy! Ahaha!"

"H-haau… M-milady!"

Shannon's face turned pink. W-was she really so famously clumsy that even a girl like Ange knew about it, and could tease her?

How mean!

"A-aah! I-It's not my fault, i-it's the witch who does it, I-I'm not that clumsy, I swear! I-I know it's her… … u-um…"

Shannon paused in her narrative- slightly abashed. If she spoke of the witch's tricks too much, Ange might get scared again. She had to try and handle this in a mature manner. Act like an adult. _Be an adult, silly big sister,_ a voice in her scolded her, which sounded remarkably like Kanon's.

Shannon decided to listen to that voice. Kanon was always right. He was such a smart kid.

"But you know… the witch _is_ a good person, okay? She watches over Rokkenjima at night, but she doesn't harm anybody; she protects good boys and girls. That's the kind of complicated person the witch is, ahaha~ If you respect her, I'm sure she'll be kind to you."

"But, if Beatrice is a witch… then what if there are other witches, too?" asked Ange curiously. Her big indigo eyes continued to blink, as shadows played across her features. "Beatrice might be a good witch, but what if there's another witch who wants to have a tea party on Rokkenjima, and she's a bad one? What then?"

What then, hm…?

What kind of people could defeat a bad witch like that?

Shannon pondered, fingers under her chin, her eyes fluttering about the room for a few moments.

Then, an idea hit her- and her soft, warm smile was restored once more. A comforting, reassuring expression like that was enough to brighten the shadow-stained room, almost as though somebody had a candle. Even before she had spoken, Ange's worries were immediately scattered, like autumn leaves in a fair breeze.

It was impossible not to trust somebody with a smile like Shannon's.

"Well… if witches work with demons from Hell, then I'm sure some kind people from Heaven would come to save you, Milady," said Shannon. "I'm sure there are some greater beings in Heaven who care deeply about the pure hearts of young girls, who would fight any bad witches to protect them. So, don't worry. Even if a bad witch does come to play with Beatrice, I'm sure the inquisitors from Heaven, in their blue coats, will save you. I promise."

"Uu…?" Ange muttered sleepily; a little verbal tic she'd picked up from Maria. "R-really? They'll really keep me safe?"

"Yes," said Shannon. "They really will. After all, if demons exist, angels have to as well. I mean, I don't much about demons or angels at all, I think Maria has more knowledge than me, hehe... But I believe, when bad things happen, some good will always come out of it. If there are demons, there will be angels, too. It must be true. I believe that with all my heart."

* * *

><p>Dlanor A. Knox, curled up on the floor with a book on her lap, blinked up at Willard H. Wright in vague confusion.<p>

"So, please tell me… Why are we HERE?"

Dlanor, despite having the appearance of a young girl, was very difficult to startle. Some people claimed she didn't have enough emotions to be startled- though that was just a cruel rumor, brought about by fear or general gossip-mongering.

In a case like this, Dlanor's confusion was fully justified.

Mere moments before, she had been in her own bedroom in her night shirt, reading a mystery novel. It was when she turning from page 13 to 14 of her novel that something strange began to occur. A force from a greater plane of being had suddenly taken hold of her hand- and dragged her, in a haze of blinding white light, into this completely alien scenario.

'This scenario' Dlanor found herself was, to put it more bluntly, one of the beautifully furnished guest bedrooms on Rokkenjima.

The mahogany furniture was all luxuriant, the carpet was soft, and the wallpaper was a rich shade of dark purple; all of which betrayed a large amount of wealth. Dlanor was interested in clambering into the four poster bed, just to see if that was of an equal quality- but she would hardly do anything as uncouth as climb into a stranger's bed. Gertrude had taught her better than that.

Besides, two people were sleeping soundly in that bed already; two young girls. The soft sound of their light snoring filled the room- though it was occasionally drowned out by the violent wind howling outside, or the pitter patter of falling rain.

Will looked at the two sleeping girls with a similar look of puzzlement on his face, scratching his head. One of them was plainly Ushiromiya Maria… and the other… Ushiromiya Ange?

"…It seems like something summoned us to take care of them, maybe? I don't know. It's not the first time it's happened. If a human's willpower is strong enough, they can inadvertently do some rather impressive feats," Will replied, with a small shrug. "Guess being a resident of Heaven also means you also have to answer to people's prayers once in a while, too. Hmm. Well, it's not like I had anything better to do anyway."

Dlanor nodded, digesting this information.

Then… she smiled.

It was typically Gertrude who answered summons like this from humans- so, to be called to protect a cute scene like this from any witches and demons really warmed the young inquisitor's heart.

People said her heart had stopped beating a long time ago- but that really wasn't the case. If it was, she wouldn't have felt so happy.

It was a shame she couldn't finish her book in the dark, though. If she turned on the light, she might wake the two young girls up…

Oh well.

She supposed 'angels' like herself had to make small sacrifices for the sake of others.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Based on the Will/Dlanor ending of Ougon Musou Kyoku Cross, which really was very cute ^_^;;  
>To <em>Fan of Games;<em> I don't look at all the links you send me, but I do take a look through some of them- I am interested in issues relating to SOPA/ACTA/etc and I am grateful you inform me of it ^^; Oh, and I'm going to promise that your Asmodeus/Ange request should be posted by the weekend.  
><strong><br>~renahhchen xoxo**


	234. A picnic in the park

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #234: A picnic in the park

* * *

><p>"T-that's not fair! I wanted that piece of norimaki, Beelzebub!"<p>

"If you wanted it, you should have taken it, Levia. I thought you would have learnt by now."

"Hehe, Mammon's riiight~ If you keep waiting politely on the sidelines you'll never get _anything_ you want in life, my sloo~oow older sister! Ahahaha!~"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Beelzebub- it's unbecoming. And Leviathan, please don't be upset; there's a lot more norimaki here," said Lucifer sensibly, proffering the Tupperware box filled with sushi to her sister.

Leviathan pouted childishly. "I don't want anymore norimaki- I wanted _that _piece."

Beelzebub stuck out her tongue in reply.

"…Well, if you don't want it, have something else," said Lucifer. Her voice was tense; fraught with undercurrents of anger she was trying very, very hard to suppress. She didn't want to lose her temper and ruin this vaguely peaceful atmosphere. As the big sister, she had to try and act mature at all times. Setting a good example was harder than it looked, though, given how noisy her sisters could be."Or you could have some edamame, or some grilled chick- en… …? Huh…?"

Lucifer's red eyes narrowed in irritation as her gaze swept across the picnic fare laid out on the chequered blanket. The plastic boxes and paper plates, filled with various colorful foods ranging from savory to sweet, with healthy home-made fare mixed amongst convenience store-bought treats like green tea and Hi-Chew candy, were all strangely, worryingly _empty._

How on earth had all their food been depleted so quickly? Ange, Belphegor and Lucifer herself had prepared stacks and stacks of it! Those sensible girls had been buying and cooking food all day yesterday for the sake of this seasonal hanami picnic. It was a fun festivity that took place in Spring, when people would spread their picnic blankets out under cherry blossom trees and watch the pink petals drift through the air, and the trio of girls had strived to this small celebration perfect.

It was considered common for people to get very, very drunk during these cherry blossom viewing picnics. Ange, in a bout of nostalgia, had regaled to the sisters stories of her father, on one occasion during a hanami picnic, fastening his tie around his head and singing, on one knee, a very sappy romantic ballad- not to Kyrie, which would have been understandable- but to Battler.

He'd probably done it on purpose to embarrass Battler- and it had worked perfectly.

That was why Battler dumped a whole tub of onigiri over Rudolf's head.

"Ahaha~ Dad was washing bits of sticky rice from his hair for _weeks _afterwards," Ange had said, with a small smile. "That was so much fun… Ahahaha~"

She had laughed at this memory, in a manner Ange rarely did; one hand pressed against her open mouth, her face flushed with happiness. Even so, despite her mirth, Ange had still point-blank refused to let even the slightest drop of alcohol grace its presence at the seven sisters' picnic.

Quite sensibly, Ange had ruled Mamon and Beelzebub were energetic enough when they were sober- and if they were drunk, they might just forget themselves and try to giddily stake random pedestrians in the local park.

It wasn't like they needed alcohol to have a good time, though. The seven sisters had been looking forward to this planned picnic for a few weeks. Despite being demons (or maybe because they were demons) they were all interested in human culture; even Satan, who frequently tried to claim she didn't care and 'I'm not going to get so excited over something so stupid'. Doing new things like this- even just having quiet moments in the local park, eating and talking together- was something they all enjoyed, regardless of what front they put on it.

It was a beautiful day, too; the sky bright blue and studded with white, bloated, fluffy clouds that drifted lazily along as though they were wading through syrup. The grass swayed slightly as the gentle wind brushed against it; making it shiver and tremble. The smell of soil hung in the air.

The cherry blossoms that fluttered through the air, a haze of almost mystical light pinks illuminated by the sun, only added to the warm atmosphere. A few blossoms had landed in Lucifer's hair; Belphegor's shoulders; the plate of cute quiche; their cups of tea- and Beelzebub had inadvertently swallowed a few of those pink blossoms when she snaffled the whole tray of grilled chicken to herself- but she claimed it only added to the experience.

Beelzebub was having a lot of fun.

And that was mainly because she'd eaten nearly all the food.

In under five minutes, no less.

That must have been some kind of record.

"A-aah, what are we going to do now?" Leviathan wailed. "We can't have a picnic without anything to picnic on! B-beelze, that's not fair! I wish _you _had been sick, instead of Asmodeus!"

For once, everybody assembled found themselves agreeing entirely with Lucifer.

* * *

><p>"Boring."<p>

_Click._

"Boring."

_Click._

"Boring."

_Click.  
><em>  
>"Ooh, cartoons! I'll just- oh. Oh, no. It just ended. Now it's on some housing program? … …Bleh. Boring."<p>

With a dissatisfied sniff, Asmodeus curled up under her bed, the sounds from the TV washing over her. Even though the housing program was dull, she didn't have enough energy to try and change the channel. She'd cycled through all the TV stations available, and there was absolutely nothing interesting on at all- so she might as well stick with the least depressing non-interesting show, about renovating old Japanese homes. Programs like this were significantly more cheery than the news, which was always about death, or sports, which was always about people hurting themselves and getting horrible injuries in the pursuit of something trivial, like a soccer ball or a home run.

Urgh. Usually, there was a least one good show on TV, though. Why did today have to be different? Looking for something interesting on TV was like searching for a needle in a piece of ohagi- or a watering hole in a desert.

It wasn't going to happen.

Maybe there wasn't anything on because everybody else in the whole world (at least, that was how it felt) would be outside, enjoying the warm weather. It really was a beautiful spring day. The sun would be shining, the birds singing, cherry blossoms floating through the air like rosy-colored butterflies… and people would, of course, be having a lot of fun having hanami picnics at the pretty local park.

Only boring people would willingly stay inside the dark confines on their homes on a day like this- so, naturally, the TV stations were only airing programs that would appeal to boring people.

Asmodeus sniffed again, rubbing her eyes- which really were quite sore and itchy.

To quote Leviathan, it just wasn't fair.

Why did she have to stay at home when everybody else got to have fun? She wasn't boring, she was certain (well, at least 99% sure) that she wasn't boring- and she wasn't sat inside, curled up under her duvet with a blocked up nose a niggling sneeze and a pounding headache because she wanted to.

More than anything, little Asmodeus desperately desired to be outside, enjoying the warm weather with her sisters; competing with Beelzebub to see who could fit the most onigiri into their mouths, drinking the delicious black tea Belphegor had prepared yesterday in a thermal flask- or maybe, maybe just maybe, having some cute romantic encounter underneath all the twirling cherry blossoms, like something from a movie or an enka ballad.

It was too bad some horrible creature (maybe Bernkastel) had decided Asmodeus wasn't _allowed _to have any fun.

Her throat was sore, her nose was stuffy, she was too hot with her blankets on but if she took them off she was too cold, and, the cherry on the icing on the miserable, rotten cake of despair- her eyes were sore and red and crusty and really, really itchy, but scratching at them only made it worse.

It relieved the pain for a second, but then it just made her eyes get redder and itchier, until they started to swell up, and tears forced themselves out without her permission.

Apparently, she was suffering from some silly human ailment called _hay fever._

Asmodeus, being a demon who resided in Purgatorio, had never even had a chance to catch any of these odd diseases that afflicted humans before. This 'hay fever' was something she was completely unaccustomed to. A person who had suffered such an illness all their life would probably not have found it so problematic. It would be annoying, yes, it most likely wouldn't make them feel like the whole universe was trying to play some mean-spirited practical joke on them. They'd sigh, and roll their irritated eyes- but ultimately decide it was just 'one of those things' and they'd take some medicine and try to ignore it.

Asmodeus couldn't quite see it that way.

She was completely _miserable._

Why was she afflicted with this illness when none of her other sisters were? Asmodeus _had _always wanted to possess something her other sisters didn't, but an illness wasn't one of them! If this was some kind of late Christmas present, it was a horrible one! Couldn't she trade it for some new socks, or some cute hair ribbons?

Bleh.

Stupid spring.

Stupid pollen.

Stupid hay fever.

Stupid life.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-

"Asmodeus? What's stupid?"

"U-ummu… N-nothing?"

Asmodeus' face, already flushed from the heat, turned an even deeper shade of red. Nervously, peeping out over the top of her duvet, she blinked up at Ange like a baby bird just emerging from its egg.

H-had she really been talking aloud?

How embarrassing… …

In her defence, she hadn't thought Ange would come back from the picnic so early! It was fine talking to yourself in the confines of your own room, with nobody else to bear witness, right? It was only when you talked to yourself and other people could hear that it started to be a problem…

Ange didn't seem to mind Asmodeus' fever-induced ranting, however. If anything, it had brought a very small smile to her face.

"A-ah, anyway, A-ange… I thought you were outside, with all the others? You didn't need to check on me just because I became ill. I don't want to spoil your fun…"

"Don't be silly," Ange chided gently, "you're not spoiling anything. If anything, I feel this day was probably spoiled for you the most. I know you were looking forward to it."

"U-um, well… just a little… …"

"Well- don't worry about it too much," said Ange, in that mature way of hers' Asmodeus always found so _cool._

Forget Territory Lord Battler- Ange should've been the one who got to wear the awesome cape and recline in a throne, with a bored look on her face. Ange was a much more awesome prince, ahahaha~

There was a slight shift of pressure on the bed, as Ange took a seat beside Asmodeus' curled up, caterpillar-like form.

Turning to face the youngest stake, Ange said, "I know how it feels like to miss out on things because of illness. I was ill as a child quite a lot, so I always had to stay at my grandpa's house when my family went for walks, or picnics, or even just looking around museums and castles and stuff... I liked being with my grandpa, but, not being able to be with my family all the time…"

Ange sighed and directed her gaze downwards; running her hands through her hair distractedly. She was trying her best to open up to people more, but discussing her half-remembered past like this, even with somebody she considered a 'friend', was difficult for her.

"Ah… Well, it was pretty lonely," she surmised. "So I understand how you feel. In fact…" There was a small smile- as Ange now lifted her head to meet Asmodeus' eyes once more. "I think getting sick is something I still haven't grown out of. I mean, even now, I still get hay fever, too."

Asmodeus' eyes widened at this unexpected piece of information. For a few moments she'd been feeling like the only girl in the world who had to suffer from a horrible affliction - especially since her sisters were all completely fine (and her sisters pretty much were Asmodeus' world, given how much time they spent together).

However… if Ange had the same illness, t-then… didn't that mean she wasn't alone anymore? And, didn't that also mean… that now, she had more in common with Ange?

Did it make them better friends?

True, people didn't usually bond over their illnesses; usually they talked about their favorite foods, or colors, or hobbies, etc, etc… But this was fine, too. Somehow, it felt more… personal? Like Ange really cared.

H-haao… A-ange really was a very kind and caring prince… …

"To be honest, sitting outside for too long was beginning to irritate my eyes," Ange confessed. "I was beginning to wonder how you were feeling, as well. I know it's not a lot of fun being excluded- so… um… If you don't mind, I could stay with you and keep you company?"

"A-ah? Really?" asked Asmodeus softly; trying not to sound too happily hopeful. She shouldn't have been happy that Ange's picnic had been ruined, after all. "Y-you… really would? Y-you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course I wouldn't."

"B-but what about the picnic?"

"We can have another one later. This isn't the only opportunity we have to ever have for one. And, if we can't have it outside, we'll just hold our own private one in here. We can invite the girls from the rabbit band too, if you like."

"U-um, well… well! Ahaha, um… if that's what Ange thinks… If she really, really wants to spend time with me, e-even though it would be more fun outside… … h-haau… … … B-but, there isn't even anything good on TV- there's just boring news, and boring sports, a-and-"

"That's fine as well. Watching this… whatever it is-" Ange's gaze fluttering critically over the TV screen briefly, "-would probably be more relaxing than watching Beelzebub get lynched for eating all the squid-shaped sausages."

"Ahaha… ahaha~ U-um, okay then! U-um…" Shifting up in her bed, and drawing the covers back, Asmodeus patted the empty spot beside her- indicating that Ange should come and join here. "Climb aboard… …? Ehehehe…"

"Why, thank you very much."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, somewhere in the local park…<p>

"Beelzebub, get back here! We can't solve our food shortage problem by _stealing other people's! _what would Ange say?"

"Whaaaaat?" Beelzebub whined indistinctly- mouth stuffed with the various wares she'd pinched out of some poor party's unguarded picnic hamper. As she spoke, she inelegantly sprayed crumbs everywhere. "If you're dumb enough to leave your food lying around, then you deserve to have it stolen!"

"No, no, no!" said Lucifer angrily, hands on her hips. "That is _not _how etiquette in the human world works! We need to go back home and find some more food, or go to the shop and purchase some- but you definitely can't _steal_ it!"

With a groan, Lucifer let her head fall into her hands. She could feel a headache coming on.

When was Ange going to come back?

* * *

><p><strong>an: **For _Fan of Games_~ I hope it's alright? I'm sorry I didn't do the second part of the request- I might write that later, as a separate oneshot, because it wasn't so immediately connected with the first idea that it absolutely had to be put together?  
>Um, I hope you like it anyway ^^;;<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	235. A problem over pudding

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #235: A problem over pudding

* * *

><p>"W-what do you mean, it's all gone?"<p>

"I mean exactly what I said, Beato," said Virgilia, voice inflexible. "I gave your ice-cream to Dlanor."

If Beatrice weren't so angry, she might have burst into tears.

Virgilia, her _Teacher_, her mother figure and mentor, had really, truly, _honestly _completely betrayed her cute pupil's trust and _given away her ice-cream_? She'd given her delicious raspberry ripple, one of her absolute favorite flavors (not counting chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, potato, shark fin, raw horse flesh, etc, etc, which were also Beato's favorite flavors... She just appreciated fine food, okay, she wasn't greedy or anything!) to _Dlanor_?

Beatrice glared up at Virgilia reproachfully.

Too bad the glare wasn't all that effective, given the Golden Witch was knelt on the kitchen floor, glancing between Virgilia and the open freezer with a pout on her face.

Perhaps Beato thought some more delicious, tasty ice-cream would materialize if she kept checking the freezer every few moments.

It didn't.

Despite the fact magic was abundant in Purgatorio, no such thing happened.

"B-but... but... But, Teacher! That ice-cream was MINE! Why did you give it to Dlanor?"

"I thought it would be alright; Miss Dlanor was having tea with me earlier, and she wanted something sweet to eat, and... well, she is a very nice and well-behaved girl, so although I don't approve of letting young children eat too many sweets, I couldn't say no." Virgilia smiled in a doting, motherly manner, and giggled softly to herself. "Yes, Dlanor is a very polite girl, who always remembers her 'please's and her 'thank you's... and she has the significant advantage over you of having never called me an old hag~ Oh ho ho!"

"But you **are** an old hag!"

"Beato, I think that's quite impolite."

"You don't love me! You don't love me at all, you never loved me! T-that was my ice-cream and you gave it away- I can't believe you gave it away! I hate you, Teacher! Uwaaaaaah!"

"Oh, now, now, Beatrice. Isn't that tearful reaction a little silly? I never knew you'd get so worked up over something as silly as dessert. I thought you were more mature than that."

"Well, I'm not! Not when it comes to ice-cream! Teacher, you're old and your taste buds are all withered and wrinkled, so you don't understand! You can't possibly imaaaagine just how delicious and sweet and wonderful ice-cream is as it spreads across the tongue! How could you possibly understand my pain? You enjoy _mackerel_- it's obvious you have no taste!"

"Then... oh dear~" The finite witch sighed, placing a hand to her cheek as she thought. It looked more like she had tooth ache, though. "Well… Shouting and crying won't get you anywhere in life- but if you really want something sweet, I could always make you some apple pie?"

Resolutely, Beatrice folded her arms and shook her head; blonde curls bouncing. "No. It's not the same."

Her eyes narrowed, filled with resolve.

No matter what Virgilia said or did, it was too late. She'd already had her epiphany. And it truly was an excellent one.

Why should she, the great Golden Witch Beatrice, sit on the floor with her skirts spread out around her like a young child, faux tears beading in her eyes? Had she forgotten she was a very, very powerful witch? Had she forgotten she had enough power in her arsenal to easily destroy any pesky little enemy that dared to face her- whether that was a fly, or a mosquito, or a little lavender-haired inquisitor of Heresy with a bit of a sweet tooth?

Dlanor might have got her way because she was young and cute and, pffft, _polite_, but Beatrice was better than that because she was cruel and ruthless, and she would never let anybody steal her ice-cream without punishment!

"Gyahahahahahahahahahaha! That's right, that's right! As a dessert-loving witch, there's only one thing I can do!~ Why should I sit and cry about something I can easily change?~ I must have been spending too much time with Baaaaattler, ihihihihihahahaha!~"

Determination shone across Beatrice's face.

She smiled boldly.

Her fingers clenched into fists.

Already, this sudden change in attitude was beginning to worry Virgilia. Beatrice was dangerous enough when she behaving normally (or, as normally as that child could behave, at least). When Beato got strange ideas into her head, however, dealing with her could be almost impossible.

_Almost_.

Unless Virgilia was pushed into summoning her divine spears- and maybe pinning her to the kitchen floor until she calmed down? Was that something mothers typically had to do to their thousand year old children… …?

Aaah, what to do, what to do…

"Beatrice," said Virgilia hesitantly, "what exactly are you planning?"

Beatrice... smirked.

"I'm going to make Dlanor pay, of course. She will pay..." the burning fire of a thousand suns sparked in Beato's eyes, "...with the loss of her innocence!"

"W-wait, Beato, you can't be suggesting-"

"Yes, I am! And I wonder what she'll make of those very ~interesting~ doujins you like reading oh-so-much as well, TEACHER! GYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"N-no, t-that is highly inappropriate, w-what- aaaah, and I _don't _read them, I-I don't, I just appreciate the artwork and the stories, n-not the, not anything else- B-beaaato!"


	236. Scapegoat

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #236: Scapegoat

* * *

><p>"Shannon, this really isn't good enough! You honestly <em>have <em>to pull your act together; I'm sick and tired of all the careless, clumsy mistakes you make!"

"Y-yes, Madam... ..."

"Don't say 'yes' in that pitiful tone of voice- it's hardly fitting for a maid of the Ushiromiya family, is it?"

"... …U-um... N-no... no, Madam... I-I apologize for any inconvenience m-my clumsiness has caused you, M-madam, I-I-"

"_Enough_! Be silent- you're giving me a giving me a headache!" Natsuhi snapped, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead whilst a pained expression flickered across her face. "Shannon, your apologies are completely worthless. Apologizing won't fix what you have broken, will it?"

By this point poor, red-faced, quivering Shannon, who looked a lot smaller than she really was given how she was cowering, had no idea whether she supposed to respond or not. When she spoke to Natsuhi, she only seemed to enrage her further- a-and, after all, furniture wasn't meant to speak, was it? But Natsuhi had asked a direct question- so, should she respond? Was she meant to?

Shannon didn't know.

She... really didn't know.

Maybe there was no right or wrong response in a situation like this. She could hardly make it any worse.

Tremulously, clutching the hem of her skirts and staring down at the floor, Shannon managed to choke out, "U-um... n-no, it... i-it won't, I-I know, b-but, um… er, I mean... I-I'm... ... I-I'm… Madam, I-I truly am very so-"

"Saying sorry is _useless_. I don't want to hear it. It's highly embarrassing for me to have in my household such a clumsy servant who constantly makes such basic errors; you shouldn't ever need to apologize, because you should never, ever make mistakes that need apologizing _for_. I suppose I'll just have to take the cost for repairs out of your wages- but this is getting _ridiculous_. Why are you so incapable of fulfilling your tasks properly? Why can't you be more like Ruon?"

Shannon cringed pitifully, her grip on her skirts growing tighter still, until she was in danger of tearing the fabric. Of course, f she did something like that, Natsuhi would only get angrier.

Shannon didn't know how to defend herself- a-and, maybe, in the end... she couldn't defend herself, or she had no right to- because she really had broken that ornament, hadn't she? It must have been expensive; maybe six months' worth of her wages, or more.

But it wasn't the money that upset Shannon the most.

It was the look on Natsuhi's face.

Disappointment.

Maybe even hatred.

D-did Madam hate her?

She tried her best, she really did- a-and she hadn't meant to break that ornament; a-and maybe, if she had been crafty like Renon, she would have hidden the broken pieces and pretended she didn't know what had happened when they were uncovered, or let somebody else take the blame, but Shannon was too truthful for that. S-she had to tell Natsuhi she'd broken it... a-a-and now look what had happened!

S-she was so useless... and so clumsy...

If she was furniture, she was faulty; a creaky cabinet, a wonky table, a chair missing a leg or a clock that chimed the hours wrong.

Useless furniture like herself didn't deserve to be with somebody like Ushiromiya George, a-and maybe she was just deluding herself if she thought a relationship like that could ever bear fruit.

Shannon certainly didn't feel like a worthy partner for George when Natsuhi was scolding her.

But still, she tried... s-she did... try... ...

She always tried…

B-but it wasn't enough.

Useless…

S-she was really, really useless, wasn't she…?

A-and maybe that was why he never came back, e-even though he said he would, a-and… a-aah… w-when the family conference inched near, i-it was always the worst time for Shannon; opening up old wounds so she couldn't concentrate, or sleep at night, o-or do anything much- and Natsuhi was always more highly strung, a-and in the end everything just went wrong like this and Shannon made more mistakes than usual and she just felt so pathetic and powerless-

_No wonder he left you._

-and Shannon couldn't help herself.

Her eyes started to well up with tears.

She couldn't hold them back.

S-she...

S-s-she... ...

"Ah, Madam- not to be impertinent, but what is the problem?"

Shannon lifted her head at the sound of that new voice; eyes rimmed red, her face crumpled like a sheet of discarded blotting paper and very, very pitiful.

It was Gohda.

Shannon began to tremble even more at that, as though Gohda's presence was synonymous with an icy wind or howling gale. Gohda was probably going to scold her for her gross error on Natsuhi's behalf as well, wasn't he? I-it wasn't as if Shannon hated Gohda, but he did have a nasty habit of revelling in others' misfortunes if it made him look better- especially Shannon's, whom he always muttered was far too young and inexperienced to bear the mark of the one winged eagle.

"It doesn't matter, Gohda,_ I_ am dealing with Shannon," said Natsuhi. Her voice was sharp enough to slit throats. "She broke an ornament; that is all. I am disciplining her. Go and clean the dining room as I instructed you to."

Shannon continued to sniff, unable to hide her tears, as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her arm.

This only made Natsuhi angrier.

"I don't know why you're crying. This is your own fault, so you should take responsibility for your actions. This kind of behavior really **is **shameful for the Ushiromiya family. I think a fitting punishment would be clean the parlor all over again, by yourself, until even_ I_ am satisfied- and of course, you won't have any dinner until it is finished. A maid such as yourself shouldn't sob in such a tiresome way. I appreciate that you are young, but when you are working for me I will not allow you act like a child. Learn some responsibility. Accept my words with a bow of the head and thanks for my guidance."

Throughout Natsuhi's speech, Shannon shrunk in on herself smaller and smaller, drawing her hands to her front and bowing her head, until it looked as though she was trying to fade out of existence. She had heard these cruel words before, but repetition didn't make them any less hurtful.

She didn't expect anybody to step in.

She didn't expect anybody to save her.

She didn't deserve saving when this was her own stupid fault.

And… that was why she was so very surprised when somebody _did._

Somebody she had never expected to.

"Do forgive me, Madam, but it appears you might have the wrong idea; not to imply that you're incorrect, or course, but... aaah... rather that you are... mistaken... ... …? Ahaha…"

Which meant much the same thing- but never mind.

Gohda's voice was firm at first, as though he was playing at being some knight in shining armor; but when Natsuhi turned to glare at him, his bravery faded away, and was replaced with nervous anxiety.

Nevertheless, he didn't stop.

He kept talking.

He was talking on Shannon's behalf.

"I-I mean, about that ornament. Shannon... … did not break it..."

"Oh?" Natsuhi raised a brow."Then why did she claim she did?"

"B-because, ah, she was trying to take the blame... because, well... um, I... I told her that, as she had been a servant here longer than me, her punishment for breaking something would not be as severe as mine, because, you see... in actuality, the one who broke it... ... w-was, um... ahaha... um… I-I'm not sure how to tell you this, Madam, but the person who broke it w-was me."

Gohda's face was taught with worry, and his brow shone with sweat under the parlor lights. For all his attempts to sound strong, his voice wavered. He was trembling. It might have been amusing to see a large man such as Gohda so very intimidated by a small, slender woman like Natsuhi- but... Shannon couldn't laugh.

She couldn't laugh at this sacrifice- which must have been the noblest thing she had ever seen Gohda do.

He was protecting her.

He didn't have to, given the broken ornament really _was_ her fault- but he was taking the blame on his own shoulders...

Why?

W-why was he being so kind?

Well...

She didn't learn that until some time later.

A very cowed Gohda had slunk into the servants' room where Shannon was sitting after her had received a very stern talking to by Natsuhi which lasted about an hour. Her words must have been harsh, because it appeared they had turned the tips of his ears permanently red from embarrassment.

Still… despite the rather worn, miserable look on his face, Gohda had smiled when he laid eyes on Shannon.

Then, he started to explain.

"Ahaha, well... I thought it would have been very, very callous to watch a young lady cry without trying to defend her." He laughed, shaking his head. "And... I always push tasks onto you without much thought, so, ahaha... I never realized just how strict Madam was with you before. I thought she might be kinder, because you're younger, and because you're trusted by the Master- but, it appears Madam will always be Madam, regardless of who she is scolding. I didn't know you were punished this harshly, so… I suppose I felt a little bit guilty for always troubling you in the past? So... don't think about it too much, alright? I just wanted to do something heroic for once, a-ahaha..."

Shannon stared at Gohda in silent thanks, unsure of what to say- so flattered and flustered she could hardly speak her own name, let alone her feelings.

So she would settle for a non-verbal form of communication instead.

What Gohda had done really was very, very kind- a-and, even if she couldn't explain herself vocally (where had all her words gone when she needed them the most?), she had to at least try and let him understand how she felt.

She had to.

And Shannon always tried her best.

So, even though it was very, very embarrassing... Shannon gave a small noise, that sounded a little like 'h-hao...'-

-and hesitantly gave Gohda a small kiss on the cheek.

She didn't say anything else.

She didn't need to.

Gohda understood her perfectly.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **In other news... I-I can't really believe I have 500 reviews? o: Thank you very much, each and every one of your words means a lot to me- and, well, every single person who reads my fics and enjoys them means a lot to me, even if I don't know who they are or have never spoken to them- but thank you very much all the same ^^  
>I feel like I should offer the 500th reviewer (*waves at Prisca-Pheonix*) something, like a request oneshot or something, to make it seem more like a celebration (with prizes! XD)... but I take requests anytime from almost anyone anyway, so maybe it wouldn't be worth that much... But if you want to request something, you can ^^;;<br>Thank you very much, everyone, I hope these stories are still enjoyable to read and aren't too dull or predictable yet, even though there are so many of them ^^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	237. Cherry flavored

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #237: Cherry flavored

* * *

><p>"Hey, Beeeern~ There's something a little different about me today. Can you guess what it is?"<p>

Bernkastel looked at Lambdadelta flatly, her purple eyes empty and devoid of emotion. Really, she could have been staring at a common garden vegetable, for all the heed she was paying Lambda.

Humph. What a meanie.

Oh weeeell~ Lambda knew her cute little kitty well enough to know that bored kind of disinterest was Bernkastel's default expression, just like wide smiles were Lambda's. It wasn't as if Bernkastel was annoyed at _everything _all the time, her face just naturally folded up that way.

Lambda was smart enough to see behind Bern's foul faces to know what she really meant.

After a small, considered silence, Bernkastel finally spoke. Her voice was monotone. "I would say you're being louder than usual, but as you frequently talk like that, I don't think you are. Really, you're just as annoying as always."

"Kwaaaa! Beeern! I thought you _liked _mysteries- but you're not even trying!"

"This isn't much of a 'mystery'; guessing a slight alteration in your appearance or actions is more like a childish game in a children's activity book. It might entertain five-year-olds for a few moments, but honestly, Lambdadelta, I _do _find some activities _slightly _below me."

"B-but it's still a mystery, right? Can't you look at it with a little love?"

"I don't have any. Sorry."

Lambdadelta mimed being hurt- but, really, she was trying quite hard to keep a small smile from her face. Her Bern was such a liar, liar, panties (or, in this case, bloomers, kyakakya~) on fire. Bern always said 'I can't love' or 'I don't love' in this very disparaging manner, a slightly disgusted look coloring her otherwise empty features, but Lambda knew that wasn't truuuue.

If Bernkastel really couldn't 'love', she wouldn't have let Lambdadelta annoy her so much.

"Urgh, Beeern," Lambda continued to purposefully annoy, grinning internally that Bernkastel still hadn't told her to go away, "you're really not trying very hard with this cute little mystery I set up for you! There's something slightly different about my appearance, okay? It's my appearance, see- I've given you a hiiint? Can't you figure it oooout?~ You say something like this is an activity for a five-year-old, but if you don't even have a go at solving it, it looks like you don't know the answer! Oh ho ho!~"

Bernkastel sighed- or, no, she didn't sigh (sighing was too much effort), but she did slump her shoulders a little, and a slightly exasperated expression flickered across her face.

"I still don't want to play this foolish 'mystery'. A mystery is only intriguing when there's a corpse. Otherwise, it's a waste of my time."

"Oh, come ooon, you don't need to drag the guts out of everything! Where's your heart?"

"About to leap out of my mouth in disgust if you keep bringing 'love' into something so foolish. Have you been talking to that sappy ex detective again?"

"Ehehe, maaaybe~ Will is pretty handsome, you know? And he has a thiiiing for flat-chested blondes. I might have a chance there."

"I know you would miss me."

Lambdadelta shrugged, an elfin smile on her face. "Nah. Will has a bad-tempered kitty of his own. I could make Diana my Bern-away-from-Bern, and it'd be just like I never ever left you!"

"Then I wish you every happiness with Willard… until I come to tear out your eyes and use them as buttons on my winter coat."

"Ahaha, I knew you cared really~ But, ufufu... enough chatter!" Lambdadelta clapped her gloved hands together, giggling brightly. "Do you want to solve my mystery now, Bern? What's different about my appearance?~"

"...I wish you would stop calling something this trivial a mystery. It's an insult. Agatha Christie would be rolling in her grave. …Which, admittedly, would be quite amusing to watch."

"If you want me to, Bern, I'd happily make that dream into a reality juuust for you! But, you have to tell me the answer to my mystery-"

"It's not a mystery."

"-first! Oh ho ho!~ How about this? If you lose, then I'll get to punish you, and if you win, then you'll get to punish me? How about that? Doesn't that sound fair? Oh ho ho- hnn...?"

Lambdadelta's laughter met a rather premature end.

After all, it was difficult to laugh when Bernkastel was kissing her.

Lambda had to admit, she really hadn't seen that coming. Bern was still wearing her stony, un-amused expression, so Lambda hadn't expected it- not that she was opposed to it or anything, but usually it was _her _who initiated hugs and kisses because Bernkastel seemed to find displaying affection openly too much of a chore when she could be reading or tormenting humans or hunting for split ends in her hair, b-but, uguuu... u-uuwaah, t-this was kind of nice, and Lambdadelta's eyelids had just flickered closed when, all too suddenly, it ended.

Just like that.

Lambdadelta was still trying to get her bearings and reorder her thoughts inside her head, all thrown about like popcorn was during a lackluster movie, when Bernkastel said simply, "Cherry flavored."

Lambda cocked her head to one side. "What?"

"Cherry flavored," Bernkastel repeated. "You're wearing cherry flavored lip gloss. Usually, you don't. There. I've solved your silly 'mystery'."

"I-I, well, um... haaa... H-how did you know?"

"Because I saw you putting in on this morning."

"Did you...?"

"Yes. You told me about it in great detail." Bernkastel rolled her eyes. "It's not much of a mystery if I already know the answer, you cretin."


	238. Antithesis

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #238: Antithesis

* * *

><p><em>What are you talking about, you damn old bastard? You think, just 'cause grandma is d… d… Y-you think, just because she's not here anymore, I'll move back in with you? That I'd abandon grandpa just like that? Do you have <strong>any <strong>sense of respect for the dead?_

Rudolf winced, pressing a hand to his temple. He'd been thinking about that phone call a little too much lately. As in, it was_ constantly_ on his mind.

Even when he was asleep.

He'd had that horribly awkward conversation with his son yesterday, as he tried to ram Ange's clothes in the suitcase for the annual family conference on Rokkenjima. Maybe it had been lousy timing on Rudolf's part, phoning his estranged son when he was in a bad mood and battling with a too-small suitcase, but he really was worried about Battler and he'd been putting off that phone call for too long.

Last month Battler's grandmother, Natsumi, had died. Battler had been living with Natsumi and Hiroshi, his grandparents on his deceased mother's side of the family, but now it was beginning to look uncertain he could stay there much longer. Natsumi had passed away, and Hiroshi wasn't getting any younger himself.

It was only a matter of time before Hiroshi, half-blind with a memory full of holes, followed in the footsteps of his wife.

What would Battler do then?

Rudolf only wanted Battler to come back home. To his _real _home. Even though that annoying, headstrong brat had more or less broken his heart when he moved away at the tender age of twelve, that didn't mean Rudolf didn't love him; of course he did- and, in a sense, it had really been his fault Battler had left anyway. He really had rushed into a marriage with Kyrie too quickly, not thinking about Battler's feelings.

Not thinking about… ... her.

Asumu.

Rudolf had meant to confront Battler about his precarious family situation for a long while, but never got around to it. He could make excuses all he liked- he was busy with work, with an impeding lawsuit over copyright, with his little Ange… but they were all lies.

The truth was, he was scared.

He hadn't spoken to Battler in so long, and he was worried… no, _terrified_, that Battler still hated him. He could smirk and put on an uncaring façade all he liked, but Battler was still his child, and weren't children meant to be with their parents? Wasn't that how it worked?

But what if Battler didn't want to come back?

What if he refused to come home, even after Hiroshi died, too?

What if… … Rudolf never saw his annoying, bratty, lovely child again?

And Rudolf's fears had proved to be correct.

Battler had… well, to put it bluntly, Battler had been pissed off. Supremely pissed off. He'd tried to maintain an icy kind of politeness at first, answering Rudolf's questions in an almost mechanical way- 'yes, no, I'm fine', 'of course I've grown taller', 'my grades? They're so-so', but his tone had been horribly distant, as though he was talking to a stranger.

Rudolf thought of the annoying little kid with the scraped knees who begged his dad to make him hot cocoa in winter and read bedtime stories to him, and he couldn't find a trace of it in Battler's voice anymore.

That was because Battler wasn't a kid anymore. He was a teenager.

And Rudolf… wasn't his dad.

He was 'that old bastard'.

So Rudolf had slowly, tentatively, breached the subject of where Battler would live when Hiroshi kicked the bucket, too- but he had known, even before the words escaped his mouth, they weren't going to go down well.

And they hadn't.

Any trace of politeness, frosty or otherwise, completely vanished from Battler's voice. He lost control. He **screamed **at Rudolf- screamed, just like he had done when he learnt his mother was dead;

_You want to me to abandon granddad when he needs me the most, just because he's getting old? Can you seriously be that much of a bastard? Oh, but I shouldn't be surprised- I am talking to the same person who got married ONE MONTH after his own wife died, after all!_

Rudolf liked to think not all of Battler's anger stemmed solely from him. Some of it must've come from the grief of losing his grandmother, who was basically his second mother. Battler had never recovered from the pain of losing his first mother, so having Natsumi die as well must have taken a horrible toll on him. Plus, he must have been afraid- so very, very afraid- of how Hiroshi would cope, who was only getting older by the day.

Mixed in with Battler's anger there had been pain, sadness, and fear as well.

But the fact still remained.

He hated Rudolf.

Hahaha…

It was funny. Rudolf had always felt antipathy towards **his** old man, and he never gave a second thought about how that must've made Kinzo feel. But, now his own son was directing the same feelings of disgust towards him…

Aaaah, it was kind of painful.

It… … _hurt_.

This realization was almost enough to make Rudolf consider apologizing to his own father- but he knew, with a small, sad smirk, that this was ridiculous. Kinzo was far too busy engrossed in his studies of black magic, locked up in his foul-smelling study, to pay his children heed anymore. Rudolf's words would no longer reach him.

Oh well. Rudolf wasn't going to break his heart over the madness of his _wonderful _father. It was Kinzo's own fault his kids hated him. He shouldn't have been such a distant, bullying bastard to his children.

Ha…

Hahahaha.

Was that how Battler saw _him_, then?

Rudolf groaned softly, burying his head in his hands. Thoughts continued to flit through his mind, none of them very pleasant. Was he a really terrible father? Yeah, he'd been irresponsible as a kid, getting Asumu and Kyrie knocked up like that at the same time, and he'd done some pretty terrible things… but he liked to think he was a little more mature now. He was an adult, after all.

He'd tried his best to reach out to Battler, he really had. But…

Maybe it wasn't enough.

Maybe… he really was a rotten parent after all.

"Uuu, uuu… Maria doesn't think you're rotten!"

"W-wha…?"

Rudolf's head jerked up so quickly he almost sprained something. The subsequent pain reminded him he wasn't as spry as he used to be, so maybe he should avoid making exaggerated gestures. If he messed up his neck or back, he'd end up bedridden with arthritis when he got older, like Hiroshi.

Still, it was hardly his fault he was surprised. Maria shouldn't have crept up on him like that.

"Ahahaha- n-nice to see you, Maria!" said Rudolf, trying to laugh off his discomfort, as he patted the young girl on the head. "But, geez, give me some warning next time you decide to appear out of thin ai. I'm an old man- you'll give me a heart attack, ihihi~"

Maria tipped her head to one side in confusion. "Appear…?"

"Yeah. I couldn't hear you coming at all." Rudolf's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Hey… Don't tell me you can move around without your feet touching the ground! Don't tell me you can turn into butterflies and seep through the cracks of doors, Maria!"

Rudolf knew Rosa hated it when people spoke about witches in front of Maria, but discussing magic was a sure-fire way to put Maria in a good mood. Besides, Rudolf was feeling pretty low at the moment. If he failed as a parent with Battler, he could at least try to make another person's child cheerful.

True to his expectations, a wide smile lit up on Maria's cute face.

"Maria's magic isn't strong enough to turn her into butterflies, uu, uu! Beatrice can do that, though! Beatrice is an amazing witch! She's teaching Maria, so maybe Maria will be butterflies too, uu, uu! But Maria can't right now. Maria's only an apprentice witch, uu!"

Rudolf laughed, ruffling Maria's hair again. The fantasy world kids made were pretty incredible. He'd had dreams like that when he was a child, too; stuff about being a superhero- that kind of nonsense.

Come to think of it, Rosa had been obsessed with magic and witches when she was younger, as well. Was that why Rosa disliked Maria talking about it? Because it reminded her of when she was a young child, teased ceaselessly by Krauss and Eva for being a baby?

"Aaah, that's good to know! I bet you'll make a wonderful witch. You can appear out of nowhere already!"

"Uu! Thank you, Uncle Rudolf!"

Rudolf smiled. "Anyway, Maria, why aren't you outside with the others? I thought Manon was showing everybody all the roses?"

That was why Rudolf had been left in the drawing room by himself. He'd claimed he felt ill, and the bright sunlight outside would only make it worse, so everybody else could look outside and he'd stay and nurse his headache. Kyrie had offered to stay by his side, but Rudolf had adamantly refused, saying she should enjoy herself with the other adults. It had been a while since she'd engaged in any 'adult conversation', given she always had to take care of Ange, and Rudolf didn't want to deprive her of that.

What Rudolf really meant by all those excuses was that he wanted to be left alone. Even he liked to wallow in his misery every once in a while. Kyrie was sharp as a razorblade, so she'd probably figured that much out by herself, judging by her small, knowing smile before she'd left.

"Uuu." Maria pulled a face. "Roses boring, uu, uu. Maria wants to watch cartoons. Maria wants to watch cartoons with Sakutaro!"

It was at this point Rudolf noticed the small, yellow lion toy Maria held tightly to her chest. It looked kind of cheap, like maybe it had been bought from a crane machine for one hundred yen… but, wait- hadn't Maria been saying Rosa made it for her as a birthday present? Somehow, Rudolf doubted that… but if Sakutaro was a hand-made present from her mother, then Rudolf wasn't going to spoil the magic. Just like he would never be so callous as to cruelly tell Maria witches didn't exist.

"Ahh, so _this _is Sakutaro," said Rudolf, looking at the stuffed toy Maria shoved in his face. "I don't think we've been properly acquainted. How do you do?"

Maria giggled as Rudolf held out a hand to shake Sakutaro's limp paw. In a voice slightly more high-pitched than her own, Maria chirruped, "H-hello, Uncle Rudolf! I-I'm Sakutaro, uryu!~ I hope we can be friends!"

"I hope we can be friends, too."

"Uu… In fact, Sakutaro changed his mind! He don't want to watch cartoons anymore!"

"Really? What does Sakutaro want, then?"

"Sakutaro wants to play with Uncle Rudolf!"

"Hn?" Rudolf raised a brow; mingled confusion and gratitude mixed about on his face. "You guys want to stay with me?"

Maria nodded. She made Sakutaro nod, too.

"Ihihi~ I'm flattered, really, but…" Rudolf smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm just an old adult. Won't you get bored?"

"No! Maria and Sakutaro think Uncle Rudolf is really nice! He gives Maria allowance sometimes, and always pats her on the head, and said Maria would be a good witch! Plus, Ange said Rudolf was a really nice dad who always reads her bed time stories, and…" Maria's voice faltered slightly. She looked at the floor, scuffing her shoes in an anxious manner. "And… Maria… … wanted to know what having a daddy of her own was like… Um, just for a bit… … …uu."

Huh? Maria… liked him that much? She really wanted to spend time with him?

Aaah… That was the complete opposite to what his own son wanted. Battler thought he was the scum of earth- but here little Maria was, treating him like the ideal father. It was so ironic Rudolf could've snorted.

Selfishly, Rudolf found himself wishing Battler could see this scene. Oh, how badly did Rudolf want to say, 'look, I'm not a bad parent! Maria knows I'm not a bad parent! Why can't you give me another chance?'

But Rudolf shook his head.

That was wrong.

This wasn't about him, or Battler.

This was about Ushiromiya Maria; a lonely girl who relied on witches and stuffed toys for friendship… and who didn't have a dad at all.

In that sense, maybe Battler was lucky. He claimed he hated his father, but at least he _had _one. Maria didn't. And…

Who was Rudolf to begrudge Maria just a few small moments of happiness?

It was with a small smile that Rudolf nodded, and picked Maria up from the floor; trying to suppress a groan as he realized the young girl was heavier than he thought. He seated her on his lap, reminiscing about the happier times when he used to do this with Battler, and Battler had smiled at him and_ hadn't _hated him…

And the two began to talk.


	239. Keeping up with the kids, part 1

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #239: Keeping up with the kids, part 1

* * *

><p>"Hey, Lia~ Whatcha doing?"<p>

_Bump._

Virgilia felt a light pressure fall upon the top of her head. She didn't need to look up to see who had spoken, or what they were doing. She could recognize that voice, accompanied by that particular perfume, instantly.

It was Gaap.

The curly haired portal demon had, as she was wont to doing whenever she caught Virgilia sitting down and unawares, come up behind her and rested her chin atop of her head.

"I wish you would greet me properly, with a 'hello, it's nice to see you again' and a handshake," Virgilia said, with a small sigh. "Manners don't cost a penny, you know."

"Ehehe, oh come on, Lia," Gaap wheedled. "If everybody held their bestest best friends at arms length all the time life would be about 110% more miserable!"

"...Is that a real statistic?"

"I said it, and I'm always right, so it must be! Hehehe!~"

"Mm. I won't comment on the validity of that statement..."

"Pffft. Oh, please. I know you love me really."

"Of course."

"Of course, of course! I'm hot! How can anybody not love me? Gyahahaha!"

With that, Gaap took her head off Virgilia's, and instead started to peer over her shoulders; hands wrapped round the back of Lia's chair. In her stupidly high stiletto heels, Gaap towered over her friend, so she had a good view of what Virgilia was doing.

Gaap... still didn't quite understand it, though.

"Hey, Lia. You didn't answer my first question. That's pretty rude, you know."

"I was distracted by your greeting," muttered Virgilia. She sighed. "There, now I've folded this the wrong way..."

"Huh? So, you're being serious?" Gaap raised a brow. "You're _actually _doing origami? You're _folding paper _as a means of _entertainment?_"

"Mm. It relaxes the brain."

Gaap placed her hands on her hips, staring unimpressed at the paper lotus flower that was slowly forming in Virgilia's hands.

"No wonder it relaxes the brain, it's _boring_! If I did something like that, I'd be so bored my brain would go on strike and try to escape from my skull! I'd actually die!"

"Well, it's a good job you're_ not_ the one doing it then, isn't it? I'm not going to center my hobbies and interests on the things you find fun and exciting. This is _my_ free time, and I'll do what I like with it," Virgilia replied stiffly, trying to keep her irritation out of her voice. It wasn't really working. Gaap was the only person who could successfully push Virgilia's buttons to the point where she actually started shouting. "It's relaxing- and I need to relax every once in a while, given the company I keep... It gets very stressful."

"'The company you keep'? Ooh, now _that _was a low blow, Lia! I thought we were friiiiends!"

"We _are_, but I really do wish you'd stop making fun of my interests. It's impolite."

"Huh? I'm not impolite! I'm actually doing you a very, very big favor by pointing out all your fuddyduddy-ness, Lia, my best friend for life!"

"F-fuddyduddy-ness? I-I... I-I'm not a fuddyduddy... ... W-who even uses that word anymore?"

"I'unno." Gaap shrugged, grinning mischievously. "It's the kind of old person-type word I thought you'd be able to relate to, like 'tuppence' or 'forsooth'. You say lots of weird things like that, being an ooold lady, hehehe."

"I-I have never once said 'forsooth' in my life!"

"Ha! Liar! You lying liar, you said it just now!"

"T-that's because I was making a point, I... a-aah... oh no..."

Virgilia's fingers had been shaking with poorly suppressed embarrassment at Gaap's gentle teasing- and now, t-thanks to that... t-that curly-haired _demon _(it wasn't really an insult, though, given, technically, Gaap _was_), Virgilia had torn her delicate paper lotus flower in two! A-all that hard work for nothing...!

"...Heh~ Don't worry, Lia. These things happen."

"B-because of _you_! These things only happen because of _you_!"

"Hey, hey, don't get angry!" said Gaap, backing away from Virgilia with her hands held before her face. "I think I'm being really kind right now, O Lia of mine!"

"K-kind? By disrupting me when I'm trying to relax? H-how is that kind...?"

"I just think all the things you do when you 'relax' are a bit old-fashioned and boring, that's all! I love you lots, Lia, but you really have no idea how to have fun! I can't stand watching you sit there wasting your life by messing around with bits of paper! You're acting like such an old granny, you're one step away from... from knitting tea cosies and listening to Schubert!"

Virgilia looked down at her lap, face flushed bright red; bits of silver hair falling in front of her eyes. Her hat shifted slightly at the small movement.

In a quiet voice, she muttered, abashed, "I... I _like _knitting and Schubert..."

Gaap smirked triumphantly.

"Ha! You see what I mean? You look really hot, Lia, but you act like an old woman- it's so weird! I need to drag you into the modern era, little by little! That's my duty as your friend! I can't stand by and leave you in the dust!"

"I... I... I-I'm perfectly happy the way I am! I never asked you to drag me anywhere. A-and I'm _not _an old woman! I-I can survive in the 'modern era' perfectly fine by myself."

"Okay then. Prove it."

At the challenging tone in Gaap's voice, Virgilia quailed. She didn't really want to get involved a stupid argument; she just wanted sit down in peace, have a nice cup of tea, and make some origami flowers- maybe a nice crane or two. But, judging by that _look_ on Gaap's face, a pleasant daydream like that would never become reality. Gaap was going to drag her into something stupid again, Virgilia was sure of it- and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. When Gaap presented her challenges, she would pester her incessantly until Virgilia lost her temper and did whatever she asked, just to shut her up.

So, Virgilia really couldn't win this.

In a desperate, last ditch attempt to save herself, the finite witch asked hopefully, "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

Gaap's response was concrete and final.

"No."

Virgilia sighed.

Well, she hadn't really expected otherwise.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe it's come to this! I finally have to send my little girl out into the big, wide world!"<p>

"B-be quiet..."

"Ah, I-it's so sad, so sad...! I could cry! I might honestly cry!"

"P-please, be quiet..."

Virgilia hung her head in embarrassment, hiding her eyes by her silver bangs. A blush heavier than than any make-up imaginable was spread across her cheeks.

Virgilia had been blushing so long and so hard she was actually beginning to get a headache from all the excess blood being pumped to her cheeks. The rest of her body, meanwhile, felt drained and numb. She could hardly twitch her fingers.

Maybe she was going to collapse.

H-horrible, t-this really was horrible! How did she get into a situation like this?

…Oh, that was right.

It was because Gaap, Beatrice and even Lady Lambdadelta bullied her.

All thanks to those three, she was now in a horrible situation completely out of her comfort zone.

Poor Virgilia was no longer attired in her modestly long gown. Instead, she was wearing something... quite a bit different. The dress had been swapped with nothing less than a _girls' school uniform_. It was a tasteful uniform, yes, with an olive green skirt that rested just above the knees, instead of being cut at the thighs, as most school uniforms seemed to be nowadays... b-but still, it was a _uniform_. A remarkably less revealing one than normal, but... i-it was still a pretty fetish-y, much fantasized about piece of clothing, wasn't it? E-especially on a conservative woman like Virgilia, who certainly w_asn't _a high school girl. The uniform was complimented by a purple ribbon round the collar, black tights and plain brown shoes. Virgilia's hair was no longer loose, either; instead, it had been combed into two cute pigtails and tied up with roses- as per Lady Lambdadelta's suggestion.

It was impossible to tell Virgilia was really a thousand-year-old finite witch in that outfit.

Instead, she looked just like an ordinary high school student. Seventeen, maybe eighteen at a push.

And she hated it.

"Oh, but that hat," said Lambdadelta, in between mouthfuls of popcorn, "it _definitely _has to go. We're aiming for cute and adorable here, but that hat drags her cute levels down way too much!"

"Hm." Gaap surveyed Virgilia critically, hand under her chin. "I think you're right."

"Well, of course I'm right! Oh ho ho!"

"N-no! N-not my hate! At least leave that alone!" Virgilia squeaked, clutching it to her head.

It was the only piece of her outfit that remained that still gave her a vague sense of self. Without it, what would happen to her? If she didn't have her hat to add a bit of elegance to this overdone attire, she might seriously morph into a cute school girl! She'd lose all sense of identity altogether!

"No way! You want to make a good impression on your new friends, yes?" said Beato, cackling. "You want to fit in, riiiight? You want to win your bet against Gaap, don't you?"

"I-it wasn't even a bet- I didn't want to make it a bet...!"

"Well, me and Beato made it one," said Lambda, still munching on popcorn. "I bet you'd win and become a super-popular high school idol, and this rude child here said you'd certainly lose and becoming a laughingstock! You can't back out of it now, Publius Maro Virgiliiia! We have a punishment game riding on this!"

"I-I don't want to play, I never wanted to play, I- hey..."

Virgilia's half-lidded eyes opened just a little wider. An eerie aura began to surround her. The effect was ruined somewhat by the school uniform, but it was still enough to make Beato shiver.

"Beato. Why did you bet that I would lose?" Her eyes widened just a little more. "Do you _really _believe I can't fit in with the younger generation?" And a little more. "Do you _really _think I'm old?"

"Eheheh, no, um... I-I think you look really young, Teacher!" Beato bluffed, laughing a little too loudly. "Ahahaha, um- I just bet against you because Lambda bet _for _you, and for a game to work two people need to place opposing bets!"

Lambdadelta and Beatrice's 'bet' went a little like this.

Following Gaap's challenge that Virgilia couldn't fit in with modern people, and Virgilia's argument that she _could_, Lambda had grown bored and whimsically dug around for a brand new kakera where she could test that out. Lambdadelta had decided to drop poor Virgilia off in a high school somewhere, introducing her as a new student, to see how Virgilia fared- hence the school uniform. The kakera had been altered slightly so Virgilia was recognized as a real person, whose legal papers and medical records, etc, had already been verified by the school. As Virgilia was masquerading as a human, and this kakera had been tailored specifically so her existence as a human was accepted, the anti magic toxin would be unable to harm her. In other words, there was no reason why Virgilia couldn't take part in this game.

No reason other than her own nerves.

She had never wanted to get into a situation like this- but when Lady Lambdadelta got involved, it was almost impossible to back out. Virgilia was now resigned to the fact her multiple failings in a human high school was going to be broadcast to Gaap, Lambdadelta and Beatrice like some kind of reality TV program, so they could all laugh at her... and she hated it. She had always hated being at the center of attention...

But Beato's lack of faith in her changed Virgilia's embarrassment to something else.

Irritation.

And determination.

"You think I can't be accepted by the younger generation?" Virgilia asked, planting her hands on her hips. "I-I'm sure I can! I don't care what you say, Beato, I am _not _old- and I'm going to prove it!"

There was a small silence following those words.

Then, Lambdadelta began to clap; laughing all the while.

"Oh ho ho! I like your enthusiasm! Yeah, I'm sure you'll be able to do it! Go on, Lady Virgilia! Do your best! Oh ho ho!"

Gaap giggled and patted Virgilia on the head.

"Hehe~ My little girl really is becoming an adult! She's going off into the big wide world! If you get homesick you can always come back and visit, okay?"

And, with those condescending words of support, Gaap plucked Virgilia's hat right off her head.

She did it easily and simply, as though she were picking an apple off the branch of a tree.

Virgilia's face turned red once more.

"G-give that back!"

"Nooo way~ I just want the best for you, okay?"

"Yeah! The other children might tease you over your old-fashioned clothes! Gyahahaha!" cackled Beatrice.

All of sudden, Virgilia's earlier confidence drained away completely.

S-she wasn't feeling very good about any of this...

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Another multipart arc. This one's been (mostly) finished for a while, and it was written in response to _HatchetGirl311_'s (I think) prompt of Jessica/Virgilia a while ago… ehehe ^^;; It's five parts long.  
>And to <em>Fan of Games<em>… no, I haven't forgotten your requests, I keep all of the requests I get saved on a word document and I strike them off when I've done them, but sometimes it takes me a while to write them- especially if I don't have inspiration for a certain prompt, or there are other things I'd rather write for a while. Sorry for the wait.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	240. Keeping up with the kids, part 2

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #240: Keeping up with the kids, part 2

* * *

><p>Numerous pairs of eyes focused on her; staring, suspicious, filled with curiosity. A light hum of whispered rumors danced about the air. The noise was trapped inside the small, square-shaped classroom, so it sounded louder than it really was, just like a jar filled with buzzing bees.<p>

It felt like everybody was judging her.

Silently mocking her.

…Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

Her legs trembled slightly. Her shoulders shook. Her hands, clasped tightly at her front, twitched.

She couldn't look at that sea of faces without feeling ill, so she looked down at the floor instead.

Despite her confident words from before, she really did hate being forced into situations like this, meeting lots of strangers. This was even worse than a meeting at the witch's senate. Most of the witches there respected each other (or were too afraid of Featherine) so they weren't openly cruel or aggressive.

It was different here.

What could see, a witch older than one thousand years, have in common with a group of young humans like this? S-she might have claimed she was eternally seventeen, b-but in reality…

I-in reality, she was more like a 1,017 year old girl.

What could she have in common with this large group of strangers?

She wished she had her hat back. That way, she'd at least feel a little more like herself, and a little more confident. That hat was a reminder she was Publius Maro Virgilia, a finite witch of the highest orders, who had more power in her little fingernail than any of these children had, even put together. But she wasn't even allowed that.

Now, she felt like any other shy, socially awkward young girl on her first day of high school.

She wanted to go home.

Something like that would be setting a bad example for Beato, though, wouldn't it? Virgilia was always scolding that child to take responsibility for her own actions- a-and it was somewhat Virgilia's fault she'd ended up like this, so…

S-so she should try to deal with it.

She couldn't run away.

She was a mature adult, wasn't she?

E-even though her hair was tied up in pigtails and she was wearing a sailor suit uniform, she was definitely a mature adult!

"Alright, class," said the teacher sternly, thus bringing the idle chatter to an end, "this is our new student who has just transferred here. I believe I told you about her last week. Her name... Maguro... Wa... waru...giria...?"

There was a small silence following the announcement of her name- and then a small sound of hushed giggles.

_"Maguro? Like, mackerel? How weird! Ahahaha!"_

_"Warugiria? That's not a Japanese name at all!" Giggle, giggle._

_"I wonder where she's from, I wonder where she's from! She can't be from around here with a weird name like that!"_

_"Ahahaha! No wonder she looks so embarrassed! If I had a weird name like that, I'd die- I'd just die!"_

Virgilia's face turned bright red.

M-maguro? W-why on earth had Lambdadelta, or Beato, or whoever had designed this kakera, chosen 'maguro' to be her family name? It wasn't a real name at all! Was that some kind of revenge for all the times Virgilia had made Beato eat her special, home-made mackerel stew? How cruel! Virgilia hadn't fed Beato that stew to torture her; she'd only done it because Beato would've lived on a diet comprised of ice-cream and cookies otherwise, and Virgilia cared about her health! Why did she have to be punished with a stupid name people would obviously gossip about because she cared about that rude child!

Nobody could pronounce 'Virgilia', either. That was understandable- but still, it made Virgilia flush with embarrassment.

She hadn't been able to wear her hair down. She hadn't been able to wear her hat.

Now, she wasn't even allowed to have her own name.

"Hey, don't be mean, you guys!" said a sudden, forceful female voice, cutting through the dull sound of badly stifled laughter. "People can't choose the names they're born with! Lay off, you hear?"

Virgilia blinked her sleepy, half-lidded eyes in confusion.

She recognized that voice.

How… was that possible, though?

Virgilia had spent the majority of her life existing on a plane most humans could never hope to reach- not unless they were cordially invited by a witch. Typically, those cordial invitations resulted in being made into some bored witch's plaything for a century or two before a protracted, painful death.

Virgilia hadn't interacted with many humans before. She certainly hadn't interacted with high school students- which was mainly why the prospect of talking to them terrified her.

But... she knew this voice.

Regardless of what Gaap and Beato said to her about her age, she had a good memory, so she was sure she hadn't made a mistake. She wouldn't make a mistake about something important like this.

Slowly, almost fearfully... Virgilia lifted her head.

She turned around.

And gasped.

The girl sitting right before her, with her arms folded defiantly, eyes narrowed... was none other than Ushiromiya Jessica.

When Virgilia caught Jessica's eye, the blonde girl smiled and gave the witch a peace sign; perhaps as a sign of camaraderie- '_look, I save you~ No need to thank me though, ehehehe~_'

Already, the whisperers in the classroom had started to reassess their opinion of Virgilia and her name:

_"Hmm... maybe Jessie's right?"_

_"Yeah. Jessie has a weird name, and she's really nice! Maybe Waru... giria... will be the same?"_

_"Perhaps it's just a trend that people in our class have the strangest names, ahahaha! It makes us more interesting!"_

_"__Maybe it's a siiiign! Wahahaha!"_

But Virgilia no longer cared about the whispering.

She was much too focused on Jessica.

This was a girl Virgilia had seen die numerous times in various _kakera_.

A girl whose fate witches had played around with for their own enjoyment.

A girl who would, regardless of the slight changes made in this universe, go to her annual family meeting on the 4th of October and die.

It was a little like discovering a corpse or a zombie seated, oh-so-innocently, at the front of the class.

Ushiromiya Jessica did not know she was going to die.

But Virgilia did.

She had seen it.

Why had Lady Lambdadelta, decided to put her in _this _school, of all the schools they could have chosen?

Virgilia felt dizzy.

So now, alongside trying to fit in with this crowd of strangers, all of whom thought her name was stupid and none of whom could pronounce it... she had to deal with this steadily mounting guilt about Jessica's unknown fate, too?

This really wasn't fair.


	241. Keeping up with the kids, part 3

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #241: Keeping up with the kids, part 3

* * *

><p>The school day passed by excruciatingly slowly, to the point where Virgilia began to suspect this was a deliberate attempt by Lady Lambdadelta to make her feel as uncomfortable as possible. It was inconceivable that a few hours' worth of math, English and history could drag on for such a long time.<p>

The lessons themselves weren't all that difficult at all. Virgilia, having been alive for a few thousand years, was more than proficient in speaking fluent English, and knew a good deal about history, too. Math was a little more challenging, given she found little enjoyment from playing around with Xs and Ys and made up numbers, but Virgilia was able to pick it up quickly enough.

If the object of her sojourn in this school was to simply sit and learn, Virgilia could have tolerated it. She might even have enjoyed it. She liked digesting new information, no matter how trivial it was, so she found the atmosphere relaxing.

There was one small problem, however.

Virgilia did not exist in the human world merely so she could learn. She existed here, in this _kakera_, so she could try and act like a normal teenager- and try to make a few friends.

The prospect of _talking _to these people made her breath catch in her chest uncomfortably, and her hands sweat a little. In the middle of solving a math problem, she grew so nervous at the thought of people looking at her, like some strange attraction in a carnival, that she dropped her pencil on the floor- only succeeding in drawing yet more eyes to her. Face flushed red, she bent down to retrieve it- but her fingers had gone numb, and it took a few attempts before she could grip it properly.

Jessica's presence didn't make things any easier for Virgilia.

As luck would have it, somehow, the spare seat allotted for Virgilia had been planted right beside Jessica. Every time she turned about up, she was greeted by a side profile of Jessica, frowning over her work as she scratched the side of her cheek with the eraser of her pencil.

It was such a simple, mundane sight, common in classrooms all across the world; the classic confused teenager.

But it still made Virgilia feel a faint flutter in her stomach.

It was even worse when Jessica noticed Virgilia looking at her, turned about, and gave the finite witch/school girl small, comforting smiles.

Whenever Jessica smiled at her, Virgilia's face turned light pink, and she had to look away.

Jessica was so bright and happy, even whilst doing simple tasks like this. It was almost impossible to believe that Ushiromiya Jessica, a bright and cheery girl who passed notes with her friends during class and kept trying to stifle her yawns behind her text books, was going to die on October the 5th; a date which was, according to the calendar on the wall, three weeks away.

Ushiromiya Jessica was going to die.

And she didn't know a thing about it.

The bell that signified the start of lunch was, to Virgilia, the equivalent of the trumpet that sounded the apocalypse.

The children, free from the shackles of authority figures and textbooks for one blessed hour, were so noisy and excitable it reminded Virgilia of starlings clamoring loudly in a nest for food.

Laughter, conversation and surprised exclamations were punctuated by the sounds of desks being roughly shoved together, bento boxes cracked open and food being eaten, as though each bite could potentially be the students' last.

Crowds buzzed around certain tables like flies; people from other classrooms entered and exited at random; little spats were breaking out as friends tried to steal food from one another; disillusioned students were complaining loudly about what teachers they hated and what classes they couldn't stand- and, in the end, all that noise mixed and merged together in a loud chatter which hurt the ears and made the head pound.

Poor Virgilia could only watch the scene of chaos in confusion; huddled up in a corner at her own desk, eyes wide.

It might have been a rude comparison to make- and, if it was, Virgilia apolozied, for she hated being rude- but these children... were exactly like those loud, lumbering goats! They certainly made the same amount of noise... and some of the boys ate their food in the same uncivilized manner.

All that was missing were the red eyes and horns.

Virgilia shivered, and tried to force herself to think of happier thoughts, like origami, cross stitch, or Mozart.

It didn't really work.

All it did was made her feel homesick, and long depserately for some soothing, classical music to listen to; maybe with a cup of Ronove's tea in one hand.

Virgilia... really missed Ronove right now. She didn't feel out of her depth with _him_; and even if he did tease her on occasions, he was always polite and charming, and they had fun together. That was the kind of conversation Virgilia longed for.

At this point, she would even settle for talking to _Gaap_.

Gaap, despite her outrageous hair and clothes, was only one person. That instantly gave her an advantage over this throng of_ teenagers_. And Gaap, despite being obnoxious and mischievous and completely _infuriating_, was one of Virgilia's oldest friends. Her childhood friend. So, no matter what Gaap did, Virgilia would- begrudgingly, at times- forgive her. Gaap knew and cared about Virgilia too much to do anything too horrid to her.

They had a bond.

An understanding.

A _friendship_.

Virgilia didn't know _any _of these people. The thought of going up to a crowded table and introducing herself as 'Maguro Vir- sorry, _Warugiria_' made her feel ill.

Alright then.

She wouldn't go and introduce herself.

She would wait for other people to introduce themselves to her.

I-it might have been rude, to rely on others to help her fulfil this 'bet'... and it would probably instil a bad work ethic in Beato… … but Virgilia couldn't help herself.

She was too intimidated to talk to anybody herself.

She was sure they'd come and talk to her. After all, she had felt a lot of eyes trained on her throughout the first few lessons of the day. It was only a matter of time.

Heh. Maybe these young children sensed some kind of... celestial nature about her, and _they_ were too afraid to approach _her_. That would be kind of funny... Perhaps all people became nervous when they encountered the unknown. It was only natural. So, there was nothing strange about her being scared... and there was nothing strange about the other children being wary of her, either.

When Virgilia thought of it like that, sitting in this classroom didn't seem so bad after all.

With a soft smile, Virgilia took a flask of tea and a pair of socks she had been knitting out her school bag; items she had packed herself to help her relax, and make her day more bearable. After taking a sip of tea, Virgilia focused on her socks, and began to knit. Her knitting needles clacked together quietly, and their sharp tips shone as the light from one of the open windows played across them.

When Virgilia started to knit, she really did enter a world of her own. It was a tranquil world... and the aura around her, eyes half-lidded and a sleepy smile on her face, must have been very peaceful and tranquil, too.

Despite the cute twin tails and the school uniform, she didn't look like she belonged in that classroom at all.

She was almost otherworldly.

And that made the rest of the class stare.

Then, it made them whisper... and look at one another suspiciously... and, without a teacher or Jessica to reprimand them... they started to laugh.

They were all thinking the same thing.

_What a weird girl._

"Hey, transfer student. Warugiria. What are you doing?"

The sound of an inquisitive, slightly insulting female voice made Virgilia look up from her knitting. Standing before her secluded desk, in a corner of the classroom, was a group of girls. They were all peering at her as though she were an animal in a zoo.

"I was just knitting..." Virgilia muttered softly.

"Oh? Really?" One of the girls raised a brow. "That's so weird, ahahaha! That's the kind of thing my grandma does! I guess your name isn't the only funny thing about you~"

A few others joined in with that laughter. It wasn't necessarily cruel... more like, it was curious... but it still didn't make Virgilia feel any better.

Maybe these people shared Gaap's thoughts that knitting and drinking tea were weird, old-fashioned hobbies... but, unlike Gaap, these people weren't her friends- so if they did tease her about it... they probably wouldn't stop.

"J-just call me 'Lia'," Virgilia said, silently hating Gaap that her inane nickname was becoming useful.

Gaap would definitely laugh at her when she next saw her.

"Okay then... R-r… ria? Rhea?" said one of the girls; her tongue tripping over the 'l' sound clumsily, hesitantly.

Then, she smiled, and shook her head.

"Sorry. I can't really get it right. Can I just call you Rhea?"

"…U-um… i-if you have to?"

"Okay, that's great! So!" The girl grinned. "You're not from Japan are you?"

"No."

"Where are you from, then?"

Virgilia could hardly say 'Purgatorio'. That would make her sound even stranger than her name and now, apparently, her hobbies, suggested. Instead, she looked down at her lap, and muttered the first country that came to mind, "... ...Italy."

"Oh, really? That explains why your name is so weird, ahaha!" laughed one of the girls cheerfully. "I'm not sure about the knitting, though. Is it something Italian people do...?"

"I don't really know. It's something _I_ do..."

Virgilia's voice was almost as unsteady as her hands. She couldn't help but tremble at all this attention being lavished upon her. All she wanted to do was run away and hide- and these girls weren't even being cruel; they were just _curious_. But curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

Virgilia frowned. Did that make her the cat...?

Was she a cat like Diana…?

"Oh, okay! I guess that's pretty cool...?" said the first girl.

"Well, _I _wouldn't want to knit for fun, but different people like different things," said second.

"Ehehe, that's true~ Ooh, but you know what I like?" said the third.

"What?" chorused the first and second.

The third girl smiled brightly- and then slammed a hand on Virgilia's desk, making the finite, pigtail'd and now rather nervous witch jump. With sparkling eyes, the third girl said proudly, "Japanese dramas! I love those sappy TV shows, ehehe!"

"Oh, me too!"

"Me too, me too!"

"Rhea, do you watch any of those TV shows at all? They're pretty popular! Um, I really like _Sukeban Deka… _Deliquent girl detectives are the best, ehehe~"

Virgilia had no idea what these girls were talking about. They might as well have been speaking in tongues for all the sense she could make of it. If Gaap was here, she'd probably understand everything, given she had a fondness for TV dramas as well... but Virgilia had never seen a single one. So she couldn't comment.

"I-I... I haven't seen it, no..."

"Oh, okay. Then what about _Ponytail wa Furimukanai_?"

"I... haven't seen that one, either..."

"Okay then! What about music? What bands do you like?"

"Have you ever heard of Inagaki Junichi?"

"Um… … No?"

"No? Aah, than what about Nokko? Rebecca?"

"I-I don't think so…?"

"Saito Yuki?"

"… …"

"Ehehe, Japanese music is fine, but I think Western stuff is good too, even if I can't understand it all! Maybe I should work harder on my English, ahaha!"

"Pffft, that is so like you, Mai, studying just so you can enjoy yourself later!"

The third girl, Mai, giggled, and bumped her fist playfully against her head in a sign of stupidity.

"So, have you heard any songs by Madonna?"

The conversation went on like this for a few more minutes, with the three girls trying to discover if they shared any interests with Virgilia- and being disappointed each and every time, when Virgilia said she didn't know.

After a while, even those three cheerful girls decided Virgilia wasn't worth their time.

Virgilia could hear them whispering about how strange she was, even as they sat on the other side of the classroom, eating their packed lunches.

S-she... really didn't have anything in common with any of these people, did she?

Maybe Gaap was right.

Despite her cute pigtails and school uniform, she couldn't fool anybody that she was 'young', or only seventeen.

She couldn't talk to any of these people. It was impossible for her.

So there was no point even sitting in that classroom.


	242. Keeping up with the kids, part 4

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #242: Keeping up with the kids, part 4

* * *

><p>Although it sounded strange, Virgilia was slightly comforted by the thought Gaap might be laughing at her.<p>

That was just how their relationship was. Gaap teased her, Virgilia (despite her best efforts) ended up reacting, and then Gaap giggled at her- and that was the end of it. It was normal. It was irritating, yes, but it was just how their strange 'friendship' worked.

If Gaap was laughing at her misfortune, it would make this horrible situation seem a little less bizarre.

A little more normal.

A little more manageable.

This wasn't overly important- it was just another one of Gaap's silly pranks, like hiding her hat or dumping bags of salt in her mackerel stew whilst it was brewing in the kitchen unattended. This... didn't really matter all that much- so Virgilia was silly to get so worked up over it.

She was being silly.

Gaap was probably laughing at her...

But it still didn't make Virgilia feel _that _much better.

It might have sounded masochistic, and Virgilia would never have admitted this to anybody- not under torture, or being torn apart by ballista rounds from Beato's shoulder towers... but Virgilia missed the sight of Gaap's unpleasantly grinning face.

The mere thought of it wasn't enough.

She wanted to see Gaap again- just to remind herself this high school scenario wasn't real.

She was still Publius Maro Virgilia, the well respected finite witch. That was still her identity... not this silly high school girl with the silly pigtails and green. She still had demons for friends, and she wasn't a social outcast.

Virgilia sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

She must have looked so ridiculous- a witch of high standing such as herself sat on a toilet seat in a small cubicle in the girls' restroom of a high school, arms wrapped round her knees and head resting atop of them. She must have looked... so stupid.

She could summon Norse deities and rain spears down upon the heads of her opponents in her universe, but when her powers were taken away and she had to masquerade as a human... she couldn't even manage one day of high school.

So, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself from crying.

She couldn't...

"Um, hey? Are you... alright in there?"

All of a sudden, a friendly voice sounded from the other side of the door. It made Virgilia jump, and she very nearly fell off the toilet seat and onto the floor. It was a good thing she was able to regain her composure in time. Perhaps the years upon years of Gaap materializing out of nowhere and nearly giving her heart attacks had paid off. The floor was dirty, stained with footprints and mud and bits of soggy toilet paper, and Virgilia didn't really relish falling on top of it.

Virgilia sniffed and wiped her eyes even more firmly, trying to dispel any remaining tears. It was a fruitless task that made her eyes look redder than before, but at least she tried.

"I'm... I-I'm fine," she answered, in a nervous voice.

"Hm. You don't sound fine. Were you crying?"

Virgilia flushed at this rather blunt, straightforward question that had hit the nail directly on the head, and defensively said, "N-no, I wasn't!"

"O-okay then. Geez, don't get angry- I'm just concerned. You know... sitting in a toilet cubicle aaall by yourself is kinda weird, huh? At least come out so I can check if you're okay."

Virgilia didn't want to, of course she didn't- but she could hardly say 'no, leave me alone'; not when this person was being so polite. It would only make them suspicious. What if they called a teacher over this matter? The mere thought filled Virgilia with burning embarrassment. So, feeling as though she was gladly giving herself up to a hungry wolf... Virgilia very slowly obliged, and opened the door.

…Looking back on it in retrospect, she should have known who the other person was.

She should have been able to tell from that tone of voice… but Virgilia had been too concerned about her own problems to think clearly about who that mystery person was..

The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the concerned expression, the tomyboy-ish way of talking...

It was Ushiromiya Jessica.

* * *

><p>Virgilia didn't know how it happened, she really didn't.<p>

She didn't intend to spill out all her thoughts and feelings in a deluge onto Jessica like that; especially not when they were both in the girls' restrooms (hardly a classy setting).

She just… … did.

A-and she still wasn't sure how.

Although Jessica was only a teenager, and a human no less, Virgilia felt a little like a small child; confiding her fears and misfortunes on the sweet blonde girl who was kind enough to ask, listen, and care.

Somehow, she'd ended up telling Jessica almost everything; about how nervous she was because she'd never been to school before ('u-um, I was homeschooled my whole life...'); about how she wasn't used to interacting with strangers; about how she was always told her hobbies and interests were weird and unsuitable for a girl her age; about how she felt like she stood out, looked odd, and couldn't fit in- she couldn't fit in at all... and everybody had realized this, and started to scorn her.

Jessica had listened patiently, and when Virgilia had finished... she had smiled brightly; and patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Ehehe~ Don't worry about it. I used to get teased a lot because of my name, too. I mean, 'Jessica' isn't very Japanese, is it? Aah, I hate my parents for calling me that- I really hate them! I could kill them! Buuut I think my cousin Battler got off way worse, so I guess I'm pretty frickin' lucky, ahaha!~ Oh, but you wouldn't know him, eheh. Sorry if I'm confusing you. People say I talk too much."

"N-no, it's fine… … it's very… soothing… T-thank you."

"Soothing? Aaah, I-I've never heard _that _before." Jessica pouted, her cheeks reddening at the unexpected praise. "My mom always says I don't talk properly for a girl of my social status. Whatever that means. I think it's a load of crap, personally."

"Um, well... I-I think you have a very charming and unique way of talking? You're definitely a kind person… and I think that's all that really matters?"

"S-stop it, stop it- you're embarrassing me! A-aah, now I've gone red!" Jessica wailed; clapping her hands comically to her burning cheeks. "K-kya! I-I have, like, an allergic reaction to praise or something- I'm really not used to it! Stop iiit, you're killing me!"

"I-I do apologize? But, um... well... From what I witnessed in the classroom earlier, everybody seems to respect and listen to you…"

"Hm, yeah- but that's just in the classroom." Jessica sighed. "My mom is always telling me I don't enough studying and I play around too much; it's like, study, study, study, and I'm really sick of it! It's such a pain! She wants me to be, like, this incredibly elegant lady, and I'm not like that at all! I'd much rather play guitar and goof around with my friends!"

"W-well, studying is important, too… I'm sure your mother only wants the best for you. If I was a mother, I-I would probably be hard on my children, too…" Virgilia smiled, past grief momentarily forgotten, as she thought of Beato. "But it would only be because I care about them."

"Heh. Well, maybe." Jessica wrinkled up her nose. "But it's still a pain in the ass. I think my mom'd like a daughter like you, who actually enjoys classical music and doing feminine stuff, like sewing and baking. Despite these curves, I'm not very feminine at all! I think my parents wish I'd just been born a boy- then I'd have the right 'attitude', and it'd strengthen my chances of being the next family head! Everybody's happy! Ah, um..." Jessica smiled, rubbing her head in embarrassment. "D-did I say too much? Am I rambling? I'm sorry. I hardly even know you! I-I must sound… really stupid… …"

"No... It's okay. I like talking to you. I-I was being a burden, complaining to you so suddenly... so you have a right to do it back."

"Hey, don't be silly. If other people have problems they think are important, then they're not burdens- they're definitely not!"

"I-I… suppose…"

"Oi!"

_Thud_.

"O-ow… atata…"

I-it looked like even a 1017 year old witch was vulnerable from melee attacks at a close range… … T-the divine spears probably wouldn't be able to protect her from something like that…

Ow…

Virgilia winced and rubbed her head. Jessica had just hit her. It was only a light, playful bump- but Virgilia knew, judging from Jessica's fight with Ronove (not that Jessica would remember) that the blonde girl really could pack a punch if she wanted to.

Jessica was standing over Virgilia now, waving a finger in her direction, scolding her; a large smile on her face.

"Don't suppose anything, silly!" Jessica said boldly. "I'm telling you, you matter, right? Aaah, people with complexes like this are such a pain… … Why do I attract people like this, I wonder? Ahaha~ You're not going to call yourself a duck or anything, are you?"

"I… I-I am… not a duck… …?"

"Hehe~ Well, at least you're not like Kanon, then… That's a good thing! Aaah, I think maybe I get somewhere this time!" said Jessica, laughing.

Virgilia tipped her head to one side in confusion. "Excuse me…?"

Her confusion only made Jessica laugh harder.

"U-um, anyway…" Virgilia continued, face heating up, "I-I think it's only fair that you can talk to me as well, given I talked to you for so long… A-and, maybe I could try and help you, too? I might have misunderstood the situation, given we don't know each other, but… um… I think your parents must truly love you, if they're so strict on you. They just want you to do well. Maybe they're not doing it the best way, but... the heart is still there. You shouldn't neglect the heart."

"Huh…? The heart… …?"

"U-um, well, I-I… I…"

Jessica looked at Virgilia in confusion for a few moments.

Virgilia tensed slightly, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing, wondering if she'd sounded incredibly old-fashioned and 1017 years old-ish again, a-and maybe she really had been too forward, prying into matters that didn't concern her, and, and-

Aaaaah, what to do?

What to do?

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make assumptions about your family, perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about but-"

A sound cut Virgilia off, mid-babble.

It was... laughter.

Ushiromiya Jessica... was really laughing.

It wasn't elegant or ladylike; a polite laugh hidden behind a hand, or a small giggle. Jessica was doubled over, clutching her stomach. Her face was flushed.

But… it didn't have to be ladylike.

Something sparkled about Jessica when she laughed like that.

Maybe it was charisma.

Or maybe it was something more special...

"W-what's so funny?" asked Virgilia, pouting slightly; affronted. "W-what did I do?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing... it's just..."

Jessica waved her hand vaguely, as though trying to cool herself down, or maybe calm herself.

It didn't work.

Her laughter still managed to seep through her resolve.

"…pfffftwahahaha! Sorry, sorry! Y-you sound just like a parent! You sound so old and mature! Ahahaha! I-I've never heard any of my friends talk like that before! B-but, you know..." Jessica giggled, wiping her eyes free with tears. "I-I think I like you. You're a really sweet person. Yeah- you're exactly the kind of mature girl my mother would love! She'd adore you, seriously!"

Virgilia looked at Jessica for a few moments, unsure whether she was being insulted or complimented. It was probably both. Jessica was doing both at exactly the same time- but there was no malice behind those insults at all.

She was just having fun.

Kind of like Gaap.

…N-now that Virgilia thought about it, there were a few similaries between Ushiromiya Jessica and Gaap- minus the obvious curly blonde hair, of course. Both of them had a rather inelegant manner of speaking; both had a habit of bursting out into peals of laughter at small things; both seemed to enjoy poking fun at others on occasions...

And, deep down... it looked like they were both kind people.

That was later proved when Jessica, worried that 'Rhea' would have nobody to talk to during lunch, invited her to join her at the light music club with her friends.

"A-are you sure that's okay…?"

"Of course it's okay, silly," said Jessica, smiling. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have invited you."

"B-but, ah… won't you be busy practising? It is a club, after all…"

"Weell, we don't usually do that much work; we're not nearly dedicated enough, ahaha~" Jessica explained as they walked through the corridor, shoes going _tup tup tup _at each step. "But the school culture festival is coming up next week, so we really wanna look our best! That's why we're working extra hard! If you come along with us, you'd probably just be sat there without much to do... it might be kinda dull. But you can give us your honest opinions on our songs, being a neutral 3rd party observer and all, ehehe!"

So Virgilia and Jessica were going to the light music club together.

Virgilia... could hardly believe it.

She was walking through the corridors of a high school like a normal student, with... a new friend by her side... just like a normal high school student- and they were talking, too.

She was having a pleasant conversation with a teenager that didn't make her feel incredibly uncomfortable or embarrassed.

It was a miracle.

She... really was fitting in.

Maybe she wasn't 'fitting in' entirely, given how odd even Jessica found her mannerisms ('weeeell, maybe they're more like 'quirky'? 'Cute'?' 'I-I'm not cute!' 'Wahahaha, whatever!'), but in a sense she was settling down.

Now that she had somebody to talk to... she might even have been having fun.

A ridiculously grateful smile spread across Virgilia's face.

"Ah, um... thank you for being so nice to me. T-thank you so much."

Jessica laughed, scratching her head with embarrassment.

"No need to thank me, ehehe~ I'm just doing what a decent person would do, ya know? Aha, s-stop that- seriously… … S-stop it…!"

"Alright. I will try," said Virgilia, bowing her head.

But she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

She... really was thankful.


	243. Keeping up with the kids, part 5

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #243: Keeping up with the kids, part 5

* * *

><p>"Hey, Jessie! Why'd you take so long in the restroom?"<p>

"We were starting to worry! Ahahaha!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want you puking your guts out or getting diarrhoea when we wanna practise, kyakyakya- o-oww!"

The cheery brown-haired girl gave a small squeak of pain as Jessica hit her on the crown of her head.

Jessica really did pack a punch- and she didn't discriminate between boys or girls, either! It was so unfair! It was so fair that _made _it unfair! O-owowow…

At least she wasn't wearing her brass knuckles that time…

"F-for your information, I wasn't being sick, or... doing… _that_..." said Jessica. "You're gross, Hina! Don't use such, such… er… _vulgar_ language, I'm a fair flower of a maiden! For your information, I just happened to stumble upon a certain someone, and we had a girly heart to heart and... ahaha, I ended up taking her back with me! Ta da!"

Jessica took hold of Virgilia's hand- and, before Virgilia had any time to protest, dragged her into the club room.

This was probably for the best.

Virgilia, overcome by a small, slight flutter of nerves at the bottom of her tummy, probably wouldn't have stepped into that room of her own free will.

Instantly, the eyes of Jessica's band mates fell upon Virgilia.

There was a small, awkward silence.

Virgilia blushed and looked down at the floor- suddenly feeling rather out of a place again. Worries began to assault her mind, piling up inch think inside her head, just like snow.

W-what if Jessica's friends didn't like her?

What if they were loud and noisy and inquisitive like the girls in class?

What if she made Jessica look bad by being a boring, uninteresting guest... ...?

What if Kanon was really a candlestick in this universe; what if there was a sudden world shortage of mackerel; what if Virgilia spontaneously turned into spaniel; what if the moon fell from the sky?

Well… Krauss' plans for moon tourism would be scuppered, for one.

Virgilia trembled.

She was so nervous her thoughts were a complete wreck.

But… …

"Ooh, I know you! You're the new transfer student, right?"

"A transfer student? How mysterious! Transfer students in TV dramas and comics always turn out to be real interesting characters with lots of awesome skills and talents!"

"Yay, we got the mysterious transfer student! We got her all for us!"

"The popularity of our club's gonna go through the roof for sure, kyakyakya!"

"You're a genius, Jessie!"

These girls, Jessica's friends, didn't sound accusatory or cruel, or scary at all. They were… friendly. Genuinely friendly.

They were smiling at her as though they were truly glad for her company.

Maybe… Um…

Virgilia's face turned light pink.

Maybe she had been so worried about the reactions of these girls… that she had forgotten they were only humans. They weren't monsters or demons, and they could hardly summon a line of giant soldiers or shoulder towers like that child. They were ordinary humans. Just like little kittens, subjected to the whims of the cruel universe; wrapped up in boxes that witches could open up like play houses, and reorganize at will.

But humans couldn't open the cat boxes of their own lives themselves.

In the end… even though she was wearing a sailor uniform, her hair tied up in pigtails, Virgilia really was the most dangerous person in this room.

So she didn't have to be frightened.

This kindness had finally reminded her of that.

It had reminded her of her identity.

Publius Maro Virgilia.

And she had no cause to worry.

"Ehehe, well..." Jessica laughed, rubbing the back of her head. "I didn't really bring her here for publicity or anything… T-that's not it, ahaha~ Um… " She turned to face Virgilia. "I-I didn't have that kind of shady, underhanded motive, I swear! I was just trying to be nice!"

"Jessie's a really sweet, friendly girl like that- even though she acts so tough," said the brown-haired girl (Hina?) cheerfully. "Don't worry, little transfer student! We'll take you under our wing!"

"Yeah, we'll take good care of you- just like a cute stray kitty, ehehe~ What's your name?"

"U-um... Virgilia... B-but, if that's too long to say, you can call me Lia..."

"Warugiria?" asked a little girl with blonde hair. "That sounds a lot like warukyuria, hehe! Are you a valkyrie, are you, are you? Are you like an incredible magical figure from Norse mythology?"

Virgilia pondered for a few moments. Would being a witch who was capable of summoning Norse gods put her on equal footing with a valkyrie, or elevate her just a little higher?

…It wasn't like it really mattered.

This wasn't a serious question anyway.

"U-um, no I'm not... But..." Virgilia smiled shyly, hands clasped at her front. "I am interested in Norse mythology."

"Ooh, that's so cool!" said the blonde girl, clapping her hands together. "Me too, me too! I love stuff like that! There's much fighting and stuff, with split skulls and blood and fights everywhere, oh ho ho!~ It's great; just as good as any movie, with waaay better SFX! Too bad most people round here don't like that stuff."

"Yes, I agree. I find poems and stories more interesting than movies, too. I thought I was old-fashioned for having that opinion, though... My friends always tease me about it."

"Heh, well, they're silly. I think you're pretty cool, Warugiria!~"

Virgilia flushed at the praise. She couldn't help herself. She wasn't used to people complimenting her hobbies.

"A-alright, Rin, that's enough! Stop hogging Rhea all for yourself!" said Jessica crossly. "We need to practice, remember?"

Rin giggled and rubbed the back of her head. "Hehe... Oh yeah. My bad, my bad. So~rry~"

"Aw, this is great! Now we have somebody to watch us!~" said the remaining girl, who could only be Saku. "Aaah, I just couldn't get fired up when we were all alone- but now we have to impress somebody, I'm gonna drum until my hands fall off, kyakyakya!"

"Would you like some cake while you watch us play, Rhea?" asked Hina. "Jessie's rich and her family has a professional chef, so we make good use of his talents! Jessie always brings us tasty leftovers, ufufu~"

"A-aah, don't tell Rhea that! D-don't tell her I'm rich, don't! It's so embarrassing! I-I'm not _that _rich anyway..."

"Yes you are, you are, you aaaaare! Ufufu~"

"You live on a mansion on a deserted island, Jessie! That makes you pretty rich, doesn't it? Gyahahaha!~"

"Ehehe~ That's right, that's right! When you try to act modest like that, it just makes you seem like you're looking down on us little people! That pisses me off! Oh ho ho!~"

"Well, you are pretty tiny already, Rin- even with that huge hair ribbon, ufufu~"

"K-kyaa! S-shut up, Saku, shut up!"

"Y-yeah, here's a good idea!" said Jessica, blushing. "W-why don't you all shut up? S-stop talking about me; I-I'm really not rich, I'm not… … kuu…"

"Aww, so you wouldn't offer your new friend a slice of cake just 'cause you were embarrassed about her finding out about your lineage? How shocking!"

"Jessie's so selfish!"

"Kyakyakya!"

"Oh ho ho!~"

"Urgh… Shut up! I'm not selfish- I'm **not**! I was gonna offer Reha some cake, b-but you didn't need to mention that my family owns their own chef! T-that's really embarrassing, you know! It's totally frickin' uncool! It sounds like I'm showing off! U-um, but..." Jessica turned to Virgilia, smiling sheepishly. "Would you like some cake?"

The idea of eating a piece of delicious cake made by Gohda whilst sipping tea from her flask, listening to cute Japanese pop music played by girls who knew about Norse mythology, sounded absolutely delightful.

Virgilia smiled so brightly it would have put a field of sunflowers to shame.

* * *

><p>Lunch time flew by quickly after that, in such a blur it made Virgilia remember with a bump just how short time in the human world really was. It was a little sad, really, that her peaceful tea time with Jessica's band had to be cut short so abruptly.<p>

After the girls had played through a couple of songs and asked for Virgilia's opinion, they grabbed slices of cake (which had been delectable) themselves and started to brainstorm ideas over what clothes they could wear. It was only one week until the school festival, and still, they hadn't decided what kind of 'theme' they were going to go for with their outfits. They hadn't started sewing them yet, either. Apparently, Jessica was awful at delicate tasks like that- as was Saku, who claimed she was only a drummer because she couldn't handle complex finger work. Hina and Rin were supposedly good at sewing, but they were worried they wouldn't be able to get the outfits done in time.

Virgilia knew little of fashion- but she hadn't been Gaap's friend for the past few centuries for nothing, and she happily joined in the discussion about what kinds of clothes they would wear. She vaguely remembered Gaap talking to her excitably about a cute first person shooting game she'd found- 'but the actual game isn't the fun thing, Lia, it's the character designs! There are so many adorable girls with awesome outfits; aaah, I just want to dress up as all of them! Kyakyakya!'

Virgilia remembered the few character designs Gaap had shown her, and admittedly, she had thought they were cute too- and surprisingly demure, with long skirts and gowns just like those some of the witches at the senate wore.

Inspired those fashion designs, Virgilia found herself sketching a few potential designs, and Jessica and her friends had ended up quite liking them.

"Ahaha~ I especially like the one with the witch hat," Jessica had said, grinning. "My cousin Maria would get a kick out of that- she loves witches, wahaha!~"

The lunch hour ended quickly after that. All too quickly.

Virgilia couldn't remember having that much fun in a long, long while. She'd managed to meet a group of really nice girls all thanks to Jessica... and they had been so accepting of her 'funny quirks' (such as her love for tea and knitting), whereas other people only teased Virgilia about it.

Virgilia had worried that she would end up alone, shunned by everybody, and unable to make a good impression. That had been true for a few moments, when she hid in the restroom and started to cry... but Jessica had helped her.

Jessica had listened to her plight... and then, with no reward of her own in sight, had taken her miserable experience and turned it into something precious, to be cherished.

Maybe Jessica was just that kind of person.

She... really did sparkle.

And yet...

And yet...

Virgilia and Jessica were now the only people left in the club room; Hina, Saku and Rin having packed up their instruments and gone back to class already. Virgilia had offered to help Jessica clean their plates free of cake crumbs, stating that she liked cleaning (which she did)- and although Jessica had laughed at her like she was crazy, she had accepted Virgilia's help.

Sunlight filtered in through the open window, catching on the surfaces of the plates and making them shine.

It made Jessica shine, too.

Her smile had never looked wider, her eyes brighter, her hair more golden.

This girl... was filled with life.

Signs of that life, Jessica's life, were strewn all around this club room, from the shelves filled with crockery to the photographs stuck to the walls of Jessica and her friends all smiling in their school uniforms, pulling silly faces.

But, it didn't matter that Ushiromiya Jessica had been alive, or that she was alive right now; face light pink, hair smelling faintly of strawberries, fingers brushing Virgilia's as they cleaned the plates together under a stream of hot water.

It didn't matter...

Because Ushiromiya Jessica was going to die.

The Ushiromiya Jessica of this _kakera_, and countless others, would definitely die on October 5th.

It was inevitable.

How could a girl who smiled so brightly... die so easily?

The more Virgilia thought about it... the sadder she became.

It didn't matter how many happy days there were- because those days would definitely end.

And she couldn't do a thing about it.

It had already been decided.

"Hey, Rhea... what's wrong?"

"…Nothing."

Nothing Virgilia could articulate, anyway.

"Oh, come on," said Jessica lightly, with a small smile. "I've been nice to you, haven't I? You can tell me, riiight? If you've suddenly developed a crush on a guy, or anybody from class has been mean to you, you can just tell me. I'll punch them in the face and make everything better, see? Wahahahaha!"

How... could Virgilia tell her?

How could she tell this smiling girl, completely oblivious girl about her predestined fate...?

She couldn't.

It was in Virgilia's kind, motherly nature to want to protect everybody; especially young girls like Jessica, who had such bright futures ahead of them.

Jessica was too nice. She didn't deserve to die so horribly. But Virgilia couldn't do anything about it. She didn't belong in this _kakera_. She had only been added in at the last minute; a hasty, unwelcome addition that couldn't linger for too much longer, lest the anti magic toxin finally begin to eat away at Lady Lambdadelta's fabrications and burn her skin.

Even if Virgilia warned Jessica, it wouldn't work, because Jessica wouldn't believe her. Imparting too much future information to Jessica ran the risk of destroying this fragile _kakera_, too; shattering it, and sending its inhabitants into the abyss.

So... Virgilia was completely useless.

She might have been a finite witch- but, right then and there, she was nothing more than an ordinary high school girl with slightly unordinary hobbies.

"H-hey, Rhea, you-"

But Jessica didn't get to finish.

She didn't finish, because Virgilia- in a sudden, emotional state of thanks, and gratitude, and grief, and guilt, and sadness, and one thousand other things beside- reached forwards and pulled her into a tight hug.

Her hands were still wet.

Her cheeks were wet, too.

But Virgilia didn't care.

She continued to hug Jessica tightly, her head resting on her shoulder.

When Beato had nightmares, Virgilia would always hold her close, and soothingly say, 'there, there, it's alright...' But Virgilia couldn't do that here. She couldn't do that because it wouldn't be alright.

This wasn't just a nightmare.

But, if at least for a few moments... Virgilia could hug Ushiromiya Jessica tightly... and remind herself that, right here and right now, Ushiromiya Jessica was real. She existed. She definitely existed. Her kindness was not fabricated or fake.

And, even if Jessica did die... at least she had brought smiles to faces of many people- Virgilia included.

"H-hey, Rhea..." said Jessica awkwardly, her face turning bright red, "w-what are you doing?"

"N-nothing..." Virgilia muttered, equally as embarrassed. "I-I'm just happy... that I met a friend like you. That's all. I thought I was going to be alone... but you proved otherwise. So... thank you. I just wanted to thank you."

"Oh, well... wahaha... t-that's okay... ..."

And though there was a slight hint of awkwardness to Jessica's voice, and her body was still a stiff from shock... she returned Virgilia's embrace.


	244. Keeping up with the kids, part 6

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #244: Keeping up with the kids, part 6

* * *

><p>Ushiromiya Jessica sighed as she sat up in bed, hugging her favorite pillow to her chest. When she was little, about five or six, she had accidentally spilt a bottle of her mother's favorite perfume on it. Even now, it still smelt vaguely like Natsuhi.<p>

Holding it was a small comfort.

It reminded Jessica of her mother.

Of course… ahaha… Natsuhi hadn't been very happy when she discovered young Jessica had upended the whole bottle of expensive hyacinth-scented perfume all over her pillow. Natsuhi had shouted at Jessica quite loudly for that, and for a very long time.

Natsuhi had probably been suffering from a headache that day, because she was never usually so cruel when she scolded Jessica.

Jessica could still remember, after Natsuhi had left, she had squished that pillow, sopping wet with perfume, to her middle and cried.

…That part of the memory wasn't so fond.

She would forget that, then.

Try to forget.

That was Jessica's motto in life. If things were sad or upsetting or disappointing, then you should just ignore them. Don't dwell on unhappy things. After all, wasn't that kind of thinking pointless?

Yeah, it was just pointless.

It wasn't like Jessica wanted to be miserable.

But, despite this resolve… … she couldn't help but feel disheartened.

Maybe even depressed.

She hadn't seen Rhea for a while.

Where had that funny transfer student with the silver hair and the love for mackerel gone?

She had vanished, almost as though she had never existed at all. And, although Jessica supposed she shouldn't care _that _much, given she had only known the strange girl for one day… i-it was still sad.

It made her feel… bereft, almost.

Empty.

Lonely.

I-it was silly, sure… but Jessica was sure she had really liked that girl. There had been something so soft, and warm, comforting and relaxing about Rhea; almost like… w-well… …

Ahahaha…

There had been something very motherly about her.

U-um… really… Jessica would have liked to talk to her a bit more… and maybe, just maybe become her real friend? I-it wasn't as if there was a special reason for that or anything; it was simply nice to have more friends, that was all- and, given Jessica lived on isolation on a tiny island, she really wanted to enjoy her school life as much as possible.

She wanted to be friends with everyone.

So there was nothing odd about wanting to be friends with Rhea, was there?

There wasn't.

But still.

Ahaha… haha… …

When Jessica thought of that strangely intense hug Rhea had given her, her fingers soapy from washing dishes and light streaming through the open window so it caught in Rhea's pretty silver hair… …

It made Jessica's face flush. Just a little.

Rhea had smelt of flowers; lavender, maybe roses? Did roses have a scent? Jessica didn't know- but flowers seemed to suit the mild-mannered, soft spoken Rhea, so flowers it was.

Flowers… and herbal tea… …

Her embrace had been so protective- just like all the hugs Jessica had wanted from her mother when she was younger that she never received; not even when she tugged on Natsuhi's skirts.

It was always _not now, Jessica._

_I'm busy, Jessica._

_Please stop pestering me, Jessica._

Even though she was popular at school, Jessica had never had a boyfriend either, so she had never been hugged like a princess- and she had never experienced that feeling of being safe, loved, needed in somebody else's arms.

Never.

It was something she dreamed about a lot… but something she had only read about in shojo manga, or head from a giddy, flushed Shannon when she recounted tales of her romance with George with a blush on her face.

Of course.

It was only pretty girls like Shannon who had boyfriends- even if Shannon had settled for somebody like George (whom Jessica would always find uncool, given he was her dorky older cousin).

Jessica hated it.

S-she didn't want to admit it, but she was jealous of Shannon.

She was so jealous.

She was even jealous of those girls in manga and TV dramas, fictional girls who didn't exist, because _they _had boyfriends and she didn't.

Jessica just wanted to experience that feeling of being needed, wanted, integral and necessary like a cog in a complex piece of clockwork, a princess in the arms of a prince- or even just a child in the arms of a parent.

That was all she wanted.

It was a humble dream. A simple wish.

And it never, ever came true.

Eventually Jessica's maidenly, rose-tinted dreams had begun to crumble; creepers of deadly ivy coiling round the admittedly fragile, unsupported structures of her idle fantasies.

Her bitterness and cynicism dragged those dreams into the dirt.

Her mother was never kind to her.

The boys at school all liked her, but they never looked at her like a woman; they treated her like another man. Maybe that was because Jessica could easily beat three quarters of them in arm wrestling competitions, and was so loud and outgoing as 'Jessie' she spoke to people regardless of their gender with ease- but Jessica wished they could see the softer side of her character from time to time, too.

Kanon was cold and standoffish, refusing to accept her feelings; throwing them back in her face, all the time with some nonsense about being furniture- even though Jessica wanted to shout at him, and point at a table or a chair or a broom, and say _**this**__ is furniture, you idiot, but you're shaped like a person and you have lungs and a heart and, and, and, _(Jessica was inarticulate on this matter even in her own head)_ and arms and legs and everything, so you're definitely a person, you're not furniture!_

So nobody ever hugged Jessica.

But then… even though she had only known her for one day, t-that… that transfer student…

The one with the strange, utterly unpronounceable name…

The one with the strange, utterly incomprehensible hobbies…

The one who spoke in that strange, utterly unnatural manner…

She had hugged Jessica.

She had.

A-and…

And…

Jessica's face turned beet red. With a small moan, she buried her head in her pillow.

She was such an idiot.

What on earth was she thinking?

What was the point in having feelings like this if it was impossible to express them? Maybe Kanon was actually kinder, cutting off Jessica's feelings at the base before the innocent tree of her maiden's heart had a chance to grow thick, ripe fruit built on flimsy hopes or false promises.

It was much, much meaner to be kind to somebody…

…and then vanish when you really, really wanted to talk to them.

It was true.

Jessica missed Rhea.

She really, really missed her.

…But of course, that only applied to that one Ushiromiya Jessica in that single _kakera.  
><em>  
>So it's probably not important.<p>

* * *

><p><em><em>Virgilia, meanwhile, succeeded in her attempts to fit in with the human world, much to Beatrice and Lambdadelta's disappointment. Following this, Virgilia decided to spend a very long time calming her poor, frayed nerves, which had been shot to pieces by her sojourn in the hell known as high school.

She decided to have a long, relaxing bath.

This wasn't just any bath, however. This was a bath with rose-scented soap and aromatherapy oils; the scent of lavender hanging in the air, and multi-colored bubbles drifting lazily through the air like thick clouds on a sluggish summer day. Virgilia's favorite hat was back on her head, and she held a cup of Ronove's specially prepared mint tea in her milky white fingers. Her long, silver hair drifted about her in the warm, soapy water like pond weed as she pondered.

That experience in the human world had surely added an extra thousand years or so to her age. It might even have given her wrinkles from the stress! She'd never felt so out of touch with the modern world before- or so old.

She would have to try harder to remain a cute, youthful, forever seventeen one thousand year old witch.

That way, maybe Gaap would stop teasing her.

And maybe, that way... ... she would never be dragged into affairs on the human world via silly bets ever again.

Virgilia was still feeling guilty about Jessica.

Poor, poor Jessica...

She missed that sweet, friendly, brave and determined and headstrong girl quite a bit.

She... really did miss her.

She had felt warm when Virgilia hugged her.

Very, very warm.

Virgilia was sure she had blushed when Jessica returned the embrace- although she really had no idea why.

She didn't know.

And she didn't want to think about it.

It was just making her feel sad.

* * *

><p><em><em>**a/n:** and that is the end of this arc ^^'' i hope you enjoyed it ^^''


	245. Lambdadelta's lukewarm reception

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #245: Lambdadelta's lukewarm reception

* * *

><p>"Wow! This is <em>incredible<em>!"

"...What is?"

"This tea!" cried Lambdadelta.

She lifted the chipped, cheap teacup to further prove her point. The lukewarm, rapidly turning stone cold 'tea' inside (if it could even be called that) sloshed about at the slightly over-exuberant movement.

Will surveyed the little witch through narrowed eyes, wincing, as he brain tried to process all the impossibly bright hues of her outfit. All those ribbons were bad enough, but that Halloween pumpkin grinning matter-of-factly on her skirt, as though it was perfectly normal and everybody wore vegetables as fashion accessories, was too much for poor Will's brain to process.

Living with a practical person like Lion must've warped Will's perception of the world. Now pointless fashion accessories, such as zips with no pockets, overly revealing outfits that couldn't protect against the cold and Halloween pumpkins sewn to clothing all made Will sigh.

Maybe it was a little hypocritical, given the utterly useless strand of red that adorned Will's hair for no real reason- but that was different.

That was a reminder of Will's rebellious youth.

What on earth was that _pumpkin_ a reminder of? And how was it able to exist, in its creepily flattened state, on Lambdadelta's skirt for so long without turning into blackened mush and attracting flies? Once, Will carved a Halloween pumpkin with Dlanor, and they displayed it in his kitchen- but Will forgot about it, and only remembered to throw it out three months later. It hadn't been a very pretty sight. That smell…

It still made Will shudder.

Magic was a pretty useful thing, if it was able to halt the process of decay like that. But, even if that silly smiling pumpkin was forever young- just like a certain eternally seventeen 'young' witch whom Dlanor often had tea with- it still gave Will flashbacks.

Unpleasant memories.

Lambdadelta was so pointlessly frivolous that looking at her was giving Will a headache.

...Well.

At least she wasn't dressed like Gaap.

Or one of those noisy seven sisters.

Or those Chiester bunny girls.

That was something.

For some reason, scantily clad women always made Will feel slightly uncomfortable.

Guh.

Sometimes it felt like everything in Will's life existed to make him feel as awkward as possible. It was a wonder the chair he was currently seated at was nice and comfy, and not covered in broken glass or rusty spikes.

"What is so incredible about the tea?" asked Will, after his pumpkin related trauma had ebbed. "There's nothing very special about it."

"No, there's not." Lambdadelta smiled. "And that's exactly why this tea is amazing!"

"… …Sorry, I don't quite follow you. Your logic confounds me."

"Oooh?~ Did I stump Willard H. Wright, inquisitor of the SSVD? Did I, did I?"

"It's not like it matters, given I'm not an inquisitor anymore. I don't have a reputation to uphold," said Will carelessly, with a small shrug. "Take whatever satisfaction from my confusion you want- it makes no difference to me."

"Heh… hehehehe~ What an interesting man...~"

"Thanks. You're pretty interesting, too. That outfit alone…"

"Do you like it?~ It's by Devilish Pretty, the same brand Gaap likes; 'Euphoria of Dancing Candycanes in Light Pink', it's called! I added the pumpkin myself, though. Oh ho ho! Lately, I've been thinking about trying some more mature, though…?"

"…No. This outfit's fine. It covers your thighs, it's fine. You're too young to wear something like Gaap."

"Ehehe~ What a gentleman."

"Hardly. Anyway. I'm curious. Why do you think this tea is 'amazing'?"

Lambdadelta laughed delightedly. "Oh ho ho! It's so awful, really, this is disgusting! I, Lady Lambdadelta, a much respected and revered witch amongst numerous circles of Heaven, Hell and Purgatorio, has never, in my whole life, suffered the indignity of being served tea of such a pathetic, miserable, tasteless, disgusting, awful calibre! I didn't even know tea this bad could even exist! I feel like my perception of reality has been completely altered! Oh ho ho ho!~"

Her smile was wide. Her eyes were shining. If one squinted hard enough, they could almost imagine pink sparkles and flowers blooming in the background behind her, as was Lambdadelta's slightly ditzy aura of forceful happiness.

"Ehehe... Ahem." Smile, smile, giggle, giggle. "All the tea I ever get served is by, you know... first class furniture. Demon butlers. People who are really, really, _really_ good at that kind of thing. And yeah, drinking such delicious tea is nice and all, buuut~ Ufufu~ Sometimes it gets a little bit boring, you know? So, I guess it's a really pleasant surprise to finally be given something this awful! It's disgusting, like filthy, boiled pond water with black grit floating in it- really, this is too awful, how on earth could anybody be so useless they can't even make a cup of tea properly? Oh ho ho ho!~ But because I've never had anything like this before it tastes absolutely delicious~"

"... ...Well, Lion typically makes the tea. They're very good at it. So, I never thought I had to bother learning myself. Besides, I prefer coffee."

"Heh, that's juuuust like a lazy guy like you, Wiiiill~ Get other people who foolishly care about you to do all the hard work, hm? I guess you're really not a gentleman after all; more like a spoilt kid! Well, I can't judge you- III like doing that, too! Oh ho ho!"

The briefest flicker of irritation crossed Will's face.

"Hey. I don't like what you're insinuating. It's not like I'm taking advantage of Lion. I do appreciate their company."

Lambdadelta giggled. "Ehehe, that's cute...~ That's really, really cuuuute~ Aah, when you say things like that, I get so happy that I saved you from mean old Bern! This kind of cuteness could only exist with my divine intervention- aaaah, that's such a lovely feeling! I love happy endings, oh ho ho!~"

"... ...Sure. Ah... I supposed I never thanked you for that, did I?"

"You don't need to. It's fine, ufufu~ After all, you're already repaying me right now by serving me this tea, aren't you?" Lambdadelta raised her cup once more and smiled. "Nipaaa~"

Hee~

Funnily enough, the cups Will had served this shoddily made tea in weren't very nice, either. They were cheap cups, on the same lousy par as the horrible tea inside them. Well, at least this tea made no pretences about its quality.

Lambdadelta kiiiind of got the feeling Will had just pulled whatever cups he could find first out of the kitchen cupboard, despite the unspoken rules great witches such as Lambdadelta had to be served delicious tea from the most beautiful cups.

If Lion was there, that kid would've made sure Lambdadelta was treated like the cute and pop princess she was- and maybe that kid would've made her cookies to go with her tea, too, or cake...~

Oooh, cake... ...~

Will probably didn't even know where the nice cups were in his own house. That man really was useless without Lion to pinch him in the right direction.

Oh well.

"It's a shame Lion's not here. I'm really fond of that kid. I wanted to see how you both are." Lambda smiled. "But, I suppose it can't be helped; not if they've gone to see their family. Aaah… I'll have to make sure to time my next visit carefully according to Lion's schedule, so I don't get stuck drinking this swill again.

"Once is fun, but twice would just make me cry... and a third time of drinking this? I think I'd gouge out your eyes, dip them in white chocolate, drizzle them in honey and give them to my cute Bern as a Valentine's Day gift, oh ho ho ho~"

"Heh, thanks. I'm glad you enjoy my hospitality so much."

"This kind of thing doesn't bore me, so it's fine every once in a while! You should count yourself lucky I'm not a fickle witch who obliterates people if their hosts don't treat them with enough respect. Oh ho ho!~"

And with that, Lambdadelta brought the cup of tea Will had carelessly made to her pursed, pink lips, and began to drink.

It tasted absolutely awful.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **will/lambda interaction, for a request by anon on tumblr ^^;; I hope you like it, whoever you are who requested it ^^''  
>haau, and… to fan of games… I know you have some questions, but I don't really like using my author's notes to answer them? If you don't want to enable PMs, could you give me your email address, or some other way of contacting you?<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	246. A sea of goats

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #246: A sea of goats

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, but this is just what ya get if ya try to lay a finger on my wife or son in front of me! Don't take it too personally! Just repent on your crimes, an' maybe the hell you fall into won't be too hot? Waaah!"<p>

There was a small round of explosions. A maelstrom of bullets whizzed through the cold air; illuminated by the prongs of lightening that cracked through the tumultuous sky overhead.

The sound of rapid gunfire mingled with the noise of the rain as it fell down around the blood-smeared courtyard. All that blood, which had been bright red before, was mixing with the puddles of water to turn light pink; a little like liquefied blancmange.

Poor Rosa.

Poor Maria, too.

Their bodies, sprawled on the ground in the rose garden, looked so small- so pitiful. Half of Rosa's skull was smashed; probably with a blunt object, maybe something unspeakable from the open shed where the gardening tools were kept. Maria was lying face-down so it was impossible to tell whether her facial features had been ground into a soupy, pulpy mess like Rosa's, but one of her legs was broken back at an awkward angle and red marks wound round her slender neck.

If only Rosa and Maria had somebody to protect them, maybe they wouldn't have met such a horrific end.

Just maybe.

It wasn't certain.

After all, the culprit of these impossible crimes wasn't a human. They couldn't have been a human.

That much became abundantly clear… … when Hideyoshi stared at the sea of inhuman monsters marching towards him.

Arguing about the culprit now was useless.

It was a witch.

The witch did it all.

The monsters were all dressed impeccably, in the attire of those who served tea and cakes- but these were no ordinary butlers; nothing at all like Genji. They didn't have human heads. They had human bodies, arms and legs, bulging with muscles that threatened to tear their clothes at the seams... ... but their heads were not human at all.

These foul creatures, with their red eyes like hot coals, their sharp horns, their long pink tongues, were demons. They had to be demons.

Attendants of the witch.

And they were absolutely everywhere.

The goat-headed butlers swarmed through the rose garden like a plague of locusts. There were so many of them it looked as though they were crawling on top each other. There was not enough space for them to set their feet on the floor.

At least they were giving the sad corpses of Rosa and Maria a wide berth. Perhaps they realized those two dead bodies, smeared in blood, wouldn't very tasty after they'd been left in the rain so long. The corpses weren't fresh. So, although the goats paused to sniff them, as young children sniffed flowers in the park finding the nicest ones to pick, they let them be.

That was for the best.

If those goats tried to defile the already pitiful corpses of Hideyoshi's family, he would have shown no mercy. Human life was precious. When that life was abused in such a manner, even the mild-mannered Hideyoshi couldn't help but feel rage building up inside him.

He was far too determined to even think of feeling scared. He knew, in all likelihood, those goats would catch him. They take him between their large arms, and tear him apart; splitting open his skin, and draining his body of blood, lapping noisily, stickily, painful, it'd be really painful...

But Hideyoshi did not care.

Hideyoshi wasn't a brave man. When Eva had been accosted by muggers when they went on holiday to Europe a while ago, Hideyoshi had given them his expensive watch to drive them away. Unlike the versions of that tale Hideyoshi embellished to entertain the young cousins, he hadn't beaten the muggers up.

He'd been too scared.

Hideyoshi wasn't brave.

But this situation was so utterly, utterly strange, and unnatural, and completely bizarre that it didn't feel like reality. Even the cold rain water beating down on him couldn't convince him that this was real. The occult murders, the locked rooms, the sacrificial stakes, the goats, the rumor of the Golden Witch- how could this be real?

It had to be a dream.

A strange, blood-stained, golden dream.

So Hideyoshi wasn't scared. His hands were trembling, and his heart was racing, and he felt bile rising up in his throat, and yes, the prospect of being chewed to bits by these goats was horrifying- but Hideyoshi wasn't screaming, and he wasn't running away, and he wasn't cowering in a corner crying.

People could do incredible things in their dreams. Even fat, old, distinctly unimpressive men like Hideyoshi could become heroes.

So he wouldn't give up.

He had to protect George and Eva. His family were still alive- thank God his family was still alive- and they were together, and they were _going to survive_.

They _had _to.

The strength of his determination, and his love for his family, was imbued so deeply in the Winchester shotgun he held in his hands that the human weapon was now something a little more spectacular; a little more magical. If the witch could use magic, when why couldn't her opponents? It seemed fair- and Hideyoshi preferred things to be just. So the gun was something a little more than a normal gun.

Every time one of those bullets struck a goat butler, it left a huge mark far larger than anything a normal gun could produce. It blew through the line of goats, creating huge holes through their thick hides; blood and guts and entrails exploding across the cold, dark night and scattering across the floor.

Goats with half their heads missing, exposed insides becoming slick and wet from the falling rain, collapsed on the floor in piles. Goats missing both their legs writhed helplessly on the ground. Goats with their intestines spilling out their stomachs coughed up a thick foam of red blood and exploded into golden butterflies.

Eva and George were also dispatching goats using some martial arts techniques a person like Hideyoshi would never be able to do.

Although Hideyoshi wanted to protect them, he realized they were more than capable of defending themselves; even against a large group of enemies like this. In the end, Hideyoshi, with the gun, was the one who wouldn't be able to defend himself if faced with a circle of goats at close quarters.

But, no matter how many goats Hideyoshi killed, more were waiting to take their place.

One of the goats stepped on the head of their fallen comrade, grinding it into the ground. The fallen goat's body soon dispersed and scattered in a golden explosion.

"Well, you guys are pretty persistent, I'll give ya that. That witch must've spent a lot of money hiring workers like you. I wonder what your pay is," said Hideyoshi, with a small smile.

Joking was perhaps one of the best ways to cope with this utterly impossible dream; this hideous nightmare.

"I wish the workers at my own business were as motivated as you guys are, wahaha! If that witch doesn't have any need for you, maybe I could take you on?"

Breathily heavily, having just sent an impressive kick into a goat that staggered it, Eva turned and said, "D-dear… Are you sure you're alright?"

Hideyoshi grinned. "Just fine, Eva, just fine! Somethin' like this is a great work out! You always tell me I need to exercise more, wahaha!"

"Y-yes, but I was hoping you would join a gym, dear- not something like this…"

"Aww, don't worry, Eva. You know us Ushiromiya men. We like a good challenge!"

"I guess that's why you married mom," said George, with a small laugh.

Eva's eyes widened slightly, and she turned to glare at her cute son sharply. "A-and what exactly does that mean, young man?"

"Heh… Nothing, nothing~"

"Wahaha~ Don't antagonize Eva, George- she can be far more violent than these goats could ever dream of. Women can be pretty scary, you know? Wahaha!"

"Aah, I'll take that on board, ahaha~ Thanks for the advice!"

"H-humph! W-well, ahaha… It is true women can become monsters when their family is threatened," said Eva, smirking. "Oh, you two. Stop it. Stop distracting me, dear- and you, too, George, darling! There are some hopelessly naughty goats we _desperately _need to punish, hmm?~"

"Right you are, Eva, right you are! Let's go!"

But, regardless of what Hideyoshi said, his breathing was getting labored. His chest begun to hurt. His heart hammered.

And still, that army of goats continued to march towards him.

They wouldn't stop.

Hideyoshi could smell their putrid breath. See their red eyes. Hear the thrum of their feet against the floor.

Even this fantastical fighting scene, rose petals dancing through the air on violent winds and golden butterflies fluttering amongst the drops of rain, was a dream... ... it looked as though it would be a short-lived one.

Hideyoshi couldn't do it.

The goats were getting closer and closer. His grip on the gun was slackening. He couldn't load the bullets properly anymore.

Well... maybe, if the goats feasted on him, it could give Eva and George some time to escape. They could take care of themselves just fine- and together, Hideyoshi was sure not even the 72 demons from hell Maria had spoken about so energetically could lay a finger on them.

They'd be fine.

Eva and George could escape to the beach, and then swim. They would swim, and swim, and swim- and they'd swim far, far away from this demented island where the rules of nature no longer applied, and…

Have a happy ending.

Start again.

Try to forget.

In the end, Hideyoshi had just been buying time, hadn't he?

"Wah... ahaha..." Hideyoshi laughed. He laughed tiredly. And he said, "Aah... I'm gettin' too old for this..."

That was the last thing he said before one of the goats descended... and took a large bite out of his head.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So this (loosely) based on the request sent to me by _Zatroopa_… who wanted to see Hideyoshi do something heroic? Preferably with Dr. Nanjo as an assist? U-um I'm sorry it's not like what you requested, and probably not what you were expecting; somehow, it became more serious instead of funny, and in the end I didn't want to cheapen the srs atmosphere by making it crackfic… but I hope it's okay all the same ;_;  
><strong><br>~renahhchen xoxo**


	247. Snakes and ladders

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #247: Snakes and ladders

* * *

><p>"Uu, uu! Maria got a six, Maria got a six! Now Maria's in the lead, uu, uu!"<p>

"Ah... so you are," said George appraisingly, with a small smile. "Well done, Maria."

"Wahaha!~ It looks like not even this super-smart up-and-coming businessman can beat Maria at snakes and ladders!" said Jessica, laughing, as she playfully shoved George in the shoulder.

"Uu! Genius, a genius! Maria is a genius, uu, uu! You're all losing, you're all losing- and Battler is last!"

"That's right~ He fell aaaaall the way down a snake, didn't he, and now he's right at the bottom of the board~" teased Jessica. "Then again, that's where a loser like him belongs, isn't it? Riiiiight at the bottom! Wahaha!~"

"Uu! Battler fell! Fall, fall!"

"Fall, fall!" Jessica reiterated, with a slightly mean smile on her face.

She was just trying to get Battler back in her own way for his perverted comments earlier. Seriously, asking a girl if you could grab their breasts- _especially _a girl you were related to- was just plain creepy! Battler's string of embarrassing, crushing defeats in snakes and ladders- this was shaping up to be his fifth a row- was probably some form of divine retribution for his creepy personality. At least, that was how Jessica saw it. She wasn't really into fortunes and stuff, not like Saku, but she liked to believe people who acted like jerks would get punished eventually.

"Oh, that is _it_- this is on!" Battler declared. Dramatically stabbing a finger at Jessica from across the game board, he said impressively, "Ushiromiya Jessica, I accept your challenge! I am gonna beat you no matter what, using whatever dirty methods I can- even if I have to grope you to death to it! I swear, I will! Ihihihi~"

"Oooh?~ So you'll grope me to death, is that iiiit?" Jessica retorted, as she rolled the dice over to Battler. "But, my _dear, dear_ cousin, that attack won't work in this kind of game! What about George? George is ahead of you as well; how are you going to defeat him?"

"I don't discriminate when it comes to groping!" Battler said, voice impassioned, as he shook the dice dramatically between his cupped hands. "Whether it's a girl, a guy, a kid, an adult or a cousin, I'll grope anything into submission! It's my secret sommelier finger technique! If it was put in a fighting game, I'd sure it'd be super effective against anything that can move, and I bet all my victims would enjoy it as well! Ihihihihi!"

"...Uu? Sommelier finger... ...? Groping? What does that mean? Uu, uu?"

"A-ah, Maria- don't repeat that!" said George hastily. "It's not something you should talk about."

"Uu... not something... I should talk about? But Battler-"

"Battler is an idiot," said Jessica, giving him a light thwack over the head, "so you should just completely ignore whatever he says, okay?"

Maria's face lit up at this. "Okay! Battler is an idiot! Will ignore! Will ignore! Uu, uu!"

"Heh… heheheh, you little devil... why don't you try it? Why don't you just try to ignore me? This is my ultimate move! Get ready- 'cause I have a feeling I'm going to roll a six, okay? I'm going to get a six, and then I'm gonna climb all the way up that ladder riiight to the finish line, ihihihihi! This will be my final... checkmaaaaate!"

And with that completely ridiculous and stupid and over the top declaration, which was complete overkill for a simple board game like snakes and ladders, Battler threw the dice onto the floor.

* * *

><p>"Aaaaah! I-I can't believe I lost again...!"<p>

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you make reckless speeches like that. It's like you're asking to lose," Jessica sniggered. "And what was all that crap about 'checkmate' and stuff? This is snakes and ladders, not chess! Wahahaha!~"

"Ugu... you're all so meaaaaan, leave me alone! Uwaaaaaaah, I'm gonna cry now, Jessica!" Battler wailed melodramatically. "You've broken my pure and innocent heart, and now I'm going to crrrrry! Useless, it's all useleeeess!"

"Kyakyakya! Battler useless, useless- Battler's useless! Kihihihi!"

"Wahahahaha!"

"U-uwaaah! George!" Battler cried, burying his head in a startled George's shoulder, "They're bullying me! They're both bullying me! That old bastard was right! Women really are devils!"

...At least.

That was what Battler said out loud.

But, in reality... the truth was slightly different.

When he had rolled the dice earlier for his 'ultimate checkmate'... he hadn't rolled a one.

He had actually rolled a six.

A six that would have definitely let him win the game.

But he had fumbled his perfect throw on purpose. He'd tipped the dice over with his own fingers when he went to check his score, in a natural manner nobody noticed.

So he didn't get a six in the end.

He got a one.

So he lost.

But... well.

Winning wouldn't have been any fun at all.

Not when everybody else was having such a good time teasing him.


	248. Angels and absinthe

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #248: Angels and absinthe

* * *

><p>"Fools! All of them; they're all useless, ignorant fools! How could<em> I<em> have sired such useless wastes of flesh? How could people who possess my blood be such disappointments? Where did I go wrong, Genji? Where did I go wrong?"

Genji, stood by Kinzo's side as usual, said calmly, in a manner that was almost amusing when contrasted against Kinzo's ravings,"I do not believe you have gone wrong at all, Master. Your children have all grown into fine adults."

"Ha... Fine adults? _Fine adults_?" Kinzo's grip on the armrests of his chair tightened. His face tightened, too; eyes narrowing, teeth gritting together in rage. Forcing himself to remain calm, Kinzo was able to say softly, dangerously, "And what dictionary have you plucked this definition of 'fine' from, may I ask, my good friend?"

Noting at once (it wasn't difficult to spot) that Kinzo was becoming more and more irate, Genji pondered whether he should try and change the subject matter. However, he was fully aware that would not improve Kinzo's foul temper. Once Kinzo slipped into black moods such as this, he seemed to almost revel in his own misery; searching, not for happiness and relief, but more and more topics to despair over.

Perhaps, despite Kinzo's age, something like that could be called childish.

Nobody else would have dared to label Kinzo as such, even inside the privacy for their own head, but Genji had been Kinzo's friend and loyal servant for the greater portion of his life. As such, Genji was the one who understood Kinzo the best, and the only one who felt comfortable thinking such unflattering thoughts of him.

Kinzo really could be quite childish. Irresponsible, too.

Sometimes, Genji wondered whether Kinzo truly believed in the cruel slander he shouted about, or at, his children. Did he honestly believe they were all useless?

Or was Kinzo just trying to distract himself from a more painful subject matter?

Was he trying to distract himself from thinking about her?

Maybe Kinzo was hoping, if he shouted about Krauss, Eva, Rudolf and Rosa, adding more and more strings of imagined failures to their names like chains of pearls, he could forget about his own guilt, and his own broken heart… … just a few moments.

If that was the case, then Kinzo really was tragic.

It never worked.

"Well..." said Genji carefully, "Krauss is attempting to be successful in his ambitious business ventures. Eva is an intelligent woman. Rudolf is striving to-"

But Kinzo wasn't interested in what Rudolf was or wasn't striving to be and, just as when she was a young girl, Rosa was completely overlooked and ignored altogether.

"What does it matter? What does any of that matter?" shouted Kinzo. "Krauss' 'attempts' at starting a successful business are not good enough; they're useless- they're certainly doomed to fail, and make him look like a bigger cretin than he already is! I never wanted Eva to be intelligent; I wanted her to be a good house wife, a good woman! Rudolf is lazy and idle and cares more about having fun than working hard! Rosa is a fool who can't care for her own child, let alone her own business! All of my children, all of them- they're all parasites leeching on my wealth; worthless, worthless, utterly worthless! I want to disown them! I want to disown them all!"

And with a small, strangled gasp, perhaps a choke of pain or an attempt to hold back tears, Kinzo collapsed backwards into his chair, head hanging.

All the energy from earlier had left him. He looked defeated.

The sweet smell in his study drifted heavily through the air. It made the atmosphere thick, fraught with tension. The occult paraphernalia that surrounded Kinzo, the old wooden furniture, melted candlesticks and old tomes of well thumbed through volumes grimoires with yellowing pages and collapsing binding, all seemed to add to the unsettling air of madness that had slowly started to descend upon Kinzo in his old age.

The portrait of the witch, her blue eyes narrowed, smile static, expression slightly aloof, seemed to glance down at Kinzo from the wall with silent contempt.

She was only a picture, after all- and a picture could never hope of comforting him. She could only smile, cold and uncaring, paint daubed on a canvas, forever. Eternally. What magic was more endless than that of the scornful glance of a pretty portrait?

What pain was more pronounced than an endless guilt that could never be cured?

Although Genji never said this out loud, he was fairly certain of a handful of things.

It wouldn't have mattered to Kinzo if Krauss became rich and successful.

It wouldn't have mattered if Eva spent her life acting as a demure, elegant lady.

It wouldn't have mattered if Rudolf had taken a greater interest in his studies and less in chasing after girls, or if Rosa had been a level-headed businesswoman who looked after Maria alongside a loving husband.

It wouldn't have mattered at all.

Although Kinzo lashed out at his children, befouled their names, and roared angrily that the only worth they had would be if their bones were ground up and used in soup stock, Genji knew it was not his children Kinzo truly loathed.

It was... most likely, himself.

It didn't matter how old he became. That guilt wouldn't go away.

And the woman in the portrait could never forgive him.

The only thing Kinzo could do to relieve his guilt was to rant, shout and scream. He locked himself away from the world in his sickly-smelling office, becoming increasingly detached from the real world; increasingly consumed by pain. And, sometimes, when he drunk enough of his foul green absinthe, maybe he could imagine the portrait of Beatrice rippled, shimmered, shone...

...and she would step out of the frame of her canvas, elaborate dress and all… and finally listen to his frantic apologies offered more than a decade too late.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm so, so sorry._

* * *

><p>"Aahaha, I'm so happy! I can't believe my wonderful grandchild managed to get such a high score on their English test! Ahahaha! This really is a wonderfully happy moment!"<p>

Twelve-year-old Ushiromiya Lion, who was used to being hailed as some kind of angelic being by their slightly eccentric grandfather, only smiled; resigning themselves to the unshakable fate of being praised.

Chuckling to himself, Kinzo continued merrily, "Aah, of course an Ushiromiya would be talented at English, though... After all, most of my books on alchemy are written in the same tongue. European languages with Latin roots really are the languages of magic, ahaha!~ I'm more shocked that your poor sister's results in English are so poor!"

Lion smiled a little shyly, and bowed their head. "Um... thank you, grandfather... but I know my sister does her best. At least, I am trying to ensure that…"

"Ahaha~ Ah yes. I've heard about your peculiar habit to spur people on… ahaha~ Maybe you get that from me, too. I used to pinch your father's ears when he spoke out of line many, many years ago."

The image of Krauss being chastised by an angry Kinzo was so amusing Lion couldn't help but giggle- and soon Kinzo followed suit.

"Aha… but, grandfather… I might be good at English," said Lion, still smiling, "but I'm not trying to be a witch."

Kinzo waved one hand in protest at this. "Ah, nonsense, nonsense! I'm sure you'd make a very good witch! You certainly have the right intellect for it! If anybody could turn rocks into gold, it would be you! With a test score like that, who knows? Perhaps you even have the gumption to make some of your father's more bizarre business ventures succeed! Now, that really would take an impressive amount of magical ability! Ahahaha!"

"E-ehehe... Well... I-if I can't be the family head, being a witch could be my second career choice?"

Kinzo frequently spoke about magic and the occult, but it seemed more like a fun hobby than anything particularly dangerous. Lion could still remember the prank Kinzo had played on the oldest maid, Ruon. He'd sneakily asked the younger maids, Renon and Sanon, if they follow her down the hallway during her night shift and unlock all the windows after Ruon had checked them. Of course, Kinzo had paid the two maids; giving them a selection of brightly wrapped Western sweets for their troubles.

Kinzo was always playing jokes on people like that. Lion thought it was hardly mature, really- and Lion was a very, very mature child, with a strong sense of duty. However, these antics always made the young successor laugh, even against their better judgement.

There was something incredibly fun about spending time with Kinzo- even if he could be a little difficult to deal with at times.

"Well, I shouldn't make such claims about your future like that," Kinzo relented, after a pause. "You should do what you want to do with your life, Lion. I'll support you fully no matter what. I know you'll make your grandfather very, very proud, regardless. I don't know it's possible for me to be prouder! Aaah, Lion!"

And the kindly old man reached forwards, overcome with feelings for their lovely grandchild, and pulled Lion into a warm embrace.

When Lion returned the hug, Kinzo could have cried from happiness.

No matter how many moments he shared with Lion, he still couldn't quite believe it was real. He couldn't quite believe he deserved something like this. Not after everything he had done. But, when Lion returned his paternal affections with smiles and laughter, Kinzo's heart lightened.

Being kind to Lion didn't excuse his former actions.

Nothing ever could.

But it at least soothed his guilt, and stopped him from becoming self-destructively bitter or misanthropic. And, most importantly… it had saved from the slow insanity that had, prior to Lion's birth, slowly started to devor him, and drag him to hell.

_I love you, Lion._

_Thank you for being born, and saving a foolish old man from a lifetime of regret._

_Thank you so much._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Lion & Kinzo interaction, for Fortune Maiden ^^;; I hope it's alright? I'm sorry if this is another story that's too sad ._. I'll try to make sure the next few are light-hearted. Although Lion & Kinzo kind of gives itself to sad situations, you know? XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	249. Gigantic girl

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #249: Gigantic girl

* * *

><p>It was a fair April morning in Heaven, and in one of the lush green parks two small figures could be seen. They were both sat on a bench under a willow tree, the pleasant breeze gently ruffling their clothes and hair as they spoke.<p>

The young girl with the lavender curls was easily recognizable as the daughter of Ronald A. Knox; set to one day take her Father's place and become an Archbishop herself. However, everybody was sure that wouldn't happen for a good long time yet. After all, Dlanor was only a kid. The young boy with the messy brown hair, meanwhile, could only be Dlanor's best friend, Willard.

At that particular moment, Dlanor was complaining.

"It's not FAIR. Why am I so SHORT?"

"Heheh. It's because you're still a baby," said Will, with a roguish (i.e. mean-spirited- but his mother always called it 'roguish') grin. "Maybe you just haven't been eating enough vegetables. All those sweets stunt your growth, you know, Tiny."

This news was very troubling for Dlanor. That much was evident by the furrow of her brows, the pout on her face.

"But... B-but I don't like VEGETABLES... I don't want to eat THEM. They're not as tasty as cookies or CAKES."

"So you'll just remain short forever, then. Short and squishy. But that's really not my problem, heheh. In fact, that's probably a good thing~ It means I'll always be able to steal your hat."

Instantly, Dlanor clapped her dainty hands atop of her straw sunhat, much to Will's amusement.

W-well, that was fine, Will could laugh- Dlanor wasn't immature enough to get riled up over it; b-but really, that sunhat _was_ her favorite. Her father had bought it for her during a rare shopping trip a few months ago and Dlanor cherished it, even though it wasn't particularly special- and, indeed, sometimes it was a bit itchy against her forehead.

Dlanor's father, Ronald, was a very busy man, so he rarely had enough time to sit and play with his daughter. That wasn't to say he was a bad parent, or neglectful or cruel; he was none of those things. Ronald, although a little serious, was always very, very kind, and he clearly loved Dlanor a lot.

Sadly, that just made Dlanor even upset that he didn't always have enough time to spend with her. If he had been mean, she wouldn't have minded his absence so much- but Dlanor adored her father, just as he adored her. This made Dlanor resent Ronald's huge workload that separated them even more upsetting. Dlanor really, really hated that he was always so busy signing and stamping papers in the Courts of Heaven. Her father probably patted pieces of legislature more than he ever patted her head.

But he had patted her on the head when he bought her that hat.

It was a nice hat with a white ribbon wrapped round it, and Dlanor wore it all the time- even when it wasn't sunny. If anybody took it from her, she didn't know what she would do.

Maybe cry.

Will, noting Dlanor's worry, laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, don't worry, Tiny. I was just joking."

"...A JOKE?"

"Mm. As in, don't take it seriously. I wouldn't steal your hat." A grin. Roguish or mean-spirited, take your pick. "Something like that is far too... ribbon-y for my tastes, anyway. I'd look stupid wearing it."

With a mouth shaped like an upside down 'v', Dlanor said, "So… Do you think my hat is STUPID?"

Will raised a brow. "I never said that. Ribbons suit a girl like you- but they wouldn't suit me at all. Detectives don't wear ribbons, anyway- they'd just draw attention to themselves. I'm sure Holmes never did."

"So you're really going to be a DETECTIVE?"

"Of course, that's my dream- and I'm sure I can do it, too. It's not like I'm stupid or anything."

Dlanor offered her friend a small smile at this. Will did boast about his intellect quite a lot, and he could be arrogant sometimes, but Dlanor knew he only wanted to be a detective because he liked the stories. It wasn't as if he was trying to rub his intelligence in others' faces.

...At least, she hoped he wasn't.

She had faith in Will.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have enjoyed spending time with him.

...Even if she had to crane her neck to look at him.

"... It's still not FAIR." Dlanor pouted. "I want to be taller, but I don't want to eat VEGETABLES. Do you know how to get taller, Will? You're very good at being TALL. You must have studied it a LOT."

"Ahaha, not really~ It's not like I'm even trying or anything; I'm just naturally like this. Buut, short of making a contract with a shady demon, I don't know what _you_ can do, Tiny. You'll just have to go to bed early, drink lots of milk, eat your greens, and- oh... Ah..."

Will paused.

And then his eyes lit up.

Any other person would instantly have noticed the mischief glittering in those yellow pupils… but Dlanor was _not_ any other person, and that young girl was unusually trusting.

That was probably how Will got the idea.

Innocently, like a sparrow looking at crumbs on the ground, Dlanor tilted her head to one side. Her lavender curls swayed in the gently breeze.

"Yes? What is IT?"

Will grinned. There was nothing roguish about it now. It was definitely mean-spirited.

"I think I know a way to make you taller... Come here, and I'll tell you~"

* * *

><p>Gertrude sighed softly as she took her seat at the back of the classroom. It was obvious from her expression she was exceedingly miserable.<p>

Most people would have felt Gertrude had no reason to be miserable at all. She was very pretty and surprisingly mature for a twelve year old; most traces of baby fat already gone from her unusually sophisticated face. Her distinguished looks, with her oval face, pursed lips and long, silky blonde hair adorned with a black headband, were the envy of all the other girls in her class.

Added to that, Gertrude was also very intelligent.

It had been her dream for the past few years to become an inquisitor in one of the agencies of heaven, and so she studied with an aplomb rare in most young children. Her classmates drifted aimlessly without knowing why they were learning or particularly caring, but Gertrude was different. She knew exactly what she wanted to do- and she could only get there by working hard. So, in class, Gertrude excelled.

So Gertrude really shouldn't have had any cause for complaint.

But she did.

She was still upset.

And that was because of her height.

She hated being so tall. She was easily the tallest girl- no, not even that, the tallest _person_ in her class; perhaps even in the _whole school._ It made people giggle. It made them whisper. It made them stare. And all that attention made Gertrude feel horribly embarrassed.

She didn't want to be tall or mature or sophisticated. She wanted to look cute. She wanted to look approachable.

Thoughts like that were nothing more than idle daydreams, though.

People were usually too intimidated to ever approach her. They didn't even like asking her if they could borrow a pencil or an eraser. Her classmates could only talk behind her back- because if Gertrude turned to face them, they'd clam up completely from nerves.

Maybe that was because, in addition to her height, Gertrude also had a rather austere expression on her face- but she couldn't help herself. Her face just _went like that. __  
><em>Mainly because she was so self-conscious about her height.

Gertrude didn't really fit in.

She always stuck out.

And she hated it.

Sighing once more, she dipped her head, blonde hair shining under the dim lights of the antiquated classroom, and began to pull her relevant books out of her bag.

She was ten minutes early. Being outside amongst her peers made her feel uncomfortable, so she always sat down in the classroom before everybody else, and was the last to leave, too. She liked having these rooms all to herself.

Perhaps she could flip through her textbook for the fifth time this term just to pass the time, or maybe take some notes, or-

"H-huh? W-w-what? W-whaa... mmpph... ...?"

When Gertrude lifted her head, she had _not_ expected to come face to face with Archbishop Knox's young daughter, Dlanor.

Dlanor attended Gertrude's school, and could often be seen in the library during lunch time, curled up in the corner by the radiators like a cat, with a book in her lap. Clad in her slightly overlarge uniform, with the navy blue blazer, grey skirt and white, ruffled socks, Dlanor really did look cute. Gertrude envied her for being so slight of stature. However, Dlanor was five years younger than Gertrude, so Gertrude had never had any cause to speak to her before.

That was why Gertrude was, initially, so surprised.

…And, 0.05 seconds later, idle thoughts like that were completely thrown out of her mind.

That was because Dlanor, with absolutely no warning, leant forwards across her desk…

…and kissed her on the lips.

Instantly, Gertrude froze. Her body turned to stone. Even her cells seemed to stop dividing. Her eyes widened almost to the size of dinner plates, her pupils becoming little pin pricks; just like red dots floating in vast circles of milk.

Her head swam.

Her heart pounded.

Her face turned bright red.

T-that was her...

H-her... ...

S-she'd only ever read about kisses in shoujo manga before, a-and now... n-now... ...

H-haaau...?

"D-d-dlanor..." the usually calm and composed Gertrude stuttered hopelessly, once Dlanor had pulled away, "w-what was...? I-I mean, um, I... I... ...? Aaah, u-um, w-what... w-w-what was t-that for?"

Dlanor looked pensive. Very honestly, in a matter-of-fact tone, she said, "Will told me to YESTERDAY."

"W-willard... ...?"

"Yes. He said, if I wanted to get taller, I had to kiss another tall person on the lips to share their GENETICS. He said it would only work with another girl because our genetics are more SIMILAR. And you are the tallest girl I KNOW. So I had to kiss YOU. Um..." Dlanor looked at Gertrude's flustered face in concern. "I hope you don't MIND?"

Gertrude couldn't do or say anything.

Instead, she could only squeak.

T-that...

T-that… had been her very first kiss… …


	250. EXTRA: Letters from Will and Lion

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #250: Letters from Will and Lion

* * *

><p>...Hey. <em>Renahh<em>, is it? Alright, let's cut to the case.

I'm Willard H. Wright- but please, just call me Will. It appears you've already heard of my... colorful past with the SSVD, so I won't bore you with the long string of my 'official' names. They're not relevant anymore given I've already retired. Plus, they take too long to write down- and they look pretentious and arrogant.

I've been reading your collection of short stories for a while... but don't misunderstand. I haven't necessarily been reading them because I think they're examples of good literature. I prefer mystery stories. Heh. I suppose that should be obvious, given my past career choice. But these short stories don't require much thought, so I wouldn't call them 'great'. I'm not even sure if they are that 'good', but at least they're somewhat entertaining.

Maybe I should applaud you for that.

In my retirement I have a lot of free time, so I always find myself whiling away the hours doing things like this... reading amateur stories, I mean- even though Lion makes sure to drag me outside on a weekly basis to play badminton. That's a bit of a pain, but-

Oh, sorry. That's not relevant.

I don't really want to rewrite this letter, though, so just ignore it.

Well, as I said before, your stories aren't the type of thing I like to read. A mystery novel (a good one, at least) is crafted very, very carefully; ensuring all details ultimately come together in a conclusion.

Stories like these, however, have the tendency to be filled with unnecessary bits of trivia, or overly long descriptions of unimportant matters. I suppose I'm not used to reading stories of this 'genre' (whatever 'genre' this is), which are able to meander around so freely without any real direction... ...

Hm.

Well, when I phrase it like that, I guess this type of story is more reflective of my life right now than mystery novels are.

However, these stories do have a lot of 'heart' in them. They're not perfect, but I can tell you enjoy writing them; just like that girl who poured her heart into crafting tales for that boy to solve. I can't dislike these stories when you have tried so hard to create them; even mean-spirited ones, such as the long (over-long?) arc involving Diana. I don't think Diana liked it because she hissed and spat and clawed at the laptop monitor when she saw it, but that's not really my concern.

If Diana takes a disliking to you, I can't stop her. I'd advise you to cat-proof your home, though, Miss.

Nevertheless… Ah, let's see…

…

…If you enjoy writing, keep doing it.

If others enjoy your writing, you must be doing something right.

Even if some people don't enjoy it, don't think about them too much, or you'll get a headache. Take criticism on board, but don't become so fixated on pleasing everyone you lose sight of why you started writing these to begin with.

Keep doing what you enjoy. That's how people become happy, isn't it? So don't let other people take away your happiness.

Don't let them defile the heart.

I wish you luck. Maybe someday, with all that love you poseses, you'll be able to create something not only average, not only acceptable, but truly great. I would look forward to seeing if that day ever occurs.

-Willard H. Wright

**P.S. **You want to write stories about me a child?

... ... ...Fine. Go ahead.

But I matured from that stage a long time ago.

* * *

><p>Dear Miss <em>Renahhchen<em>,

Good morning. I am Ushiromiya Lion, successor of the Ushiromiya family, and Willard H. Wright's full-time carer. It is a tricky job, far trickier than one day becoming the family head- but I am sure with a lot of patience, and a few pinches here and there, I will be able to prevail *laughs*

These stories that involve my daily interactions with Willard are slightly alarming in their similarity to my life at the moment. I have to wonder, how are you able to know such details? Perhaps you yourself are some kind of witch, like Lady Lambdadelta? If that is the truth, you can tell me about it. Nothing would surprise me now; not after what I have been through.

And to think, I used to consider witches beings from fairytales... Oh, how life has changed.

Ahem.

Seeing others write stories about me is always an... odd experience. A few others have also written stories that involve me, for some strange reason- doubtless, they seem to think I am interesting? It's quite flattering... but at the same time, perhaps a little embarrassing. I'm not sure I'm worthy of such attention?

However, I am grateful nonetheless.

As for your stories, they are quite varied and interesting indeed. Personally, I've always preffered to read classical novels, Dickens and the like; perhaps because they were also my mother's favorites. Your writing style is vastly different to that kind of thing, though. It appears you utilize long, more naturalistic conversations more frequently than those authors, and you rarely describe setting the setting. I know that each author has a unique style, even amongst the classics; Dickens is quite different to Hugo, after all. However, I feel your style could benefit by being slightly more descriptive at times so as not to confuse the readers. That might be beneficial.

Also... Forgive me for mentioning this, but I am only doing so in your best interests, should you ever decide to pursue a career as an author. I feel your work could benefit from having somebody check it through before you post it. You frequently make errors; minor mispellings, missing out words and awkward sentence structure on occasions. These flaws are not major, but they often stand out and disrupt your stories. Regardless of what Will says, I am not a pedant, but I would appreciate it if you could hopefully revise all these stories one day so the quality is the best you can make it.

It might sound daunting, but the only way to success is to work hard. I'm sure you can do it.

Thank you for your time, and thank you for writing these stories. I enjoyed reading them.

-Ushiromiya Lion

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I'm not sure how this characterization is... ahaha ^^;; However, writing short 1st person pieces like that is pretty helpful for trying to get into a character's head, I think... ^^;; I'm still not sure with how I portray these two though. They're very complex characters, I find...? XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	251. How not to die a horrible death

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #251: How not to die a horrible death

* * *

><p>"Amakusa. What on <em>earth <em>are you doing?"

At that sound of that terse, clipped voice issuing a few feet away from his back, the silver-haired man jumped slightly. As he did so, his hand fell from his head and landed at his side. His motions were cowed and guilty. If he had been a dog (which he wasn't- he was a handsome devil, hihihi~), then his tail would've been firmly between its legs.

Ha. Now he felt like a child being scolded.

It'd be a long, loooong time before anybody had ever been able to inspire _this _kind of reaction from him. Amakusa had always prided himself on being shameless- and he'd had so many turbulent love affairs with women in the past he'd ceased to be affected by their angry tones. Amakusa always thought, grinning slyly to himself the whole while, that he was exactly the type of character who'd feature as the lead in some trashy romance novel at an airport; the mysterious man with the disarming smile whom women always tried to tame, but would ultimately fail.

It'd be the sort of crappy novel that actually included the phrase 'turbulent love affair' in all seriousness too, hihihi~

That voice, however...

Aah, that voice was slightly different. It belonged to a very special lady.

A very _little _lady.

"Hihihi..." Laughing awkwardly, silver hair fluttering slightly in the breeze on the deck of Kawabata's boat, Amakusa said, "Yo, little lady. What's wrong? You look kind of pissed."

Ange glared at him, that familiar sourpuss expression on her face; hands planted firmly on her hips.

Ahaha... maybe 'pissed' was understatement.

"Amakusa," she said firmly, "What's _that _you're holding?"

"Huh? This old thing? ... ...Oh, ahaha..."

For the first time since Ange made her dramatic entrance, Amakusa looked down at the object held in his hands- and then a slightly complicated smile spread across his face. Maybe it was only natural Ange would sound so angry, given what he was holding.

Women didn't like guns, did they?

Women like Ange especially didn't. That girl had a cool load of cash to her rather young name that many, many people were desperate to get their grubby fingers on it. Being Ange's bodyguard, Amakusa naturally had a firearm to protect her from people like that- but Amakusa was sure Ange didn't entirely trust him, either.

"Hihihi... Ah, I'm sorry, Milady. I didn't mean to frighten you," he said with a charming smile that could have sold toothpaste. Under the glowing sun, his pearly whites seemed to sparkle. "I just thought I'd practice a little. We're going to be on Rokkenjima soon, and I'm not totally convinced that we won't have a run in with Miss Sumadera at some point. I wanna be prepared, you know?"

Should he smile a little more? Ange still looked angry. Maybe dial the charm up a bit?

...Was that too creepy?

... ...Maybe that was too creepy.

Okay, his smile was much too wide now.

Whenever Amakusa was with Ange, he always felt slightly more self conscious that usual. That is to say, he actually remembered what being self conscious felt like- because usually, he really didn't care what other people thought of him. Ange just had this way of looking at people, as though she thought everybody else was an idiot, and somehow it always hit Amakusa hard.

Amakusa really did respect Ange quite a lot. There was something incredible about that little lady's strength and resolve that could humble even a guy like him.

"I realize that you're holding a gun," said Ange coldly- now accompanying her 'are-you-an-idiot?' glare with her 'are-you-an-idiot?' tone of voice (a deadly combination indeed). "I'm not stupid, Amakusa. And I realize, being my bodyguard, it's only natural for you to carry a gun. But... honestly. Did you not realize what you just did?"

"... ...No?"

Ange scowled and folded her arms.

Heh, she looked so cute like that~

"You're a _moron_, you know that? I thought you'd used a gun before. I thought you knew how dangerous they are. So I thought even a person like you would be a bit more careful when handling one!"

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa- what's wrong, little lady? I'm kind of lost here. I have used a gun before. I've used 'em to take lives before, too. I might look like a gorgeous pretty boy, but you're right- underneath this attractive exterior, I'm not an idiot. Or... a total one." He laughed. "Sooo... what _exactly_ is the problem?"

"...God, _must _I spell it out for you?"

"I'd appreciate it, yeah. Being around you is like playing minesweeper; I'm always terrified I'm going to put my foot down wrong and blow something up. I'd like a bit of help here? Hihihihi~"

"... ...Moron."

Ange heaved a great sigh, as though merely having this conversation was tiresome for her.

Then, she stabbed a finger in Amakusa's direction, and said, "You were _scratching your head with the barrel of your gun_. I _saw_ you. Do you think that's _safe_?"

Amakusa blinked at Ange for a few moments, trying to cast his mind back to a few seconds ago. It was funny, he mused, how he could remember events from his childhood in perfect detail, but recalling something mundane that occurred recently was so difficult.

Maybe he was getting old.

"Ah... oh yeah. I... I guess I did, didn't I?"

"You definitely did," said Ange. "I'm not lying. I couldn't lie about something that ridiculous if I tried."

"Yeah, but…" Amakusa frowned. "My head was itchy."

"I don't _care_. That's like prodding a shark in the eye because it's asleep. It's _stupid_. It's something only a stupid person would die! What would you have done if the gun actually went off?"

"... …I'd die?"

"Of course you would. You'd splatter your brain out over the boat."

Amakusa couldn't help but grin despite- or perhaps _because_- of the anger in Ange's voice.

Heh. That little lady always pretended to dislike him, but Amakusa was_ sure_ she wouldn't have been getting so worked up if she didn't like him just a little bit. That... was really kind of cute. Ange acted so cool and distant most of the time, so seeing her lose her temper- and lose it over him, no less- was strangely endearing.

Well, there was no sense putting an end to this adorable scene just yet~

"Hihi~ Well, I was thinking that this old boat does need a new paint job? And, if I put a bullet in my brain, I'd definitely take care of that annoying itch, hihihihi~"

Ange's eyes filled with fire.

"Don't even joke about something like this! This is _serious_. Even if you don't care yourself, at least think of me!"

"You'd be lonely without me, huh?"

"No, that's it! That's not it at all! Rather, I'd look like an idiot if I had a stupid bodyguard who shot himself in the head! I don't want your bad reputation rubbing off on me too! Unlike you, I'm _not _a moron!"

Ange's brows were furrowed into two diagonal lines. Her lips were forced into a furious pout, like the beak of a duck. Her cheeks were actually flushed light pink from her uncharacteristic loss of temper. Her arms, now held at her sides, were clenched into fists. She was breathing heavily.

And...

It might have been 'un-gentlemanly', but Amakusa couldn't help but laugh.

"W-what... w-what the hell's so funny, moron?"

"Ahaha! Nothing, nothing! It's just... hihihihi~" Amakusa laughed. "Maybe I should do thoughtless things more often if it'd make you worry about me, little lady. Hihihi...~ I mean… the gun wasn't even loaded."

This stopped Ange short. Her eyes widened.

"W-what...?"

"Hihihi~ I did train military recruits at Blackwater for a few years, yanno- and I've seen guys thoughtlessly mess around with guns. The results aren't pretty. This one guy, Pip, he accidentally blew his own foot off. Blood everywhere. So, really, little lady, it's like I already told you. I'm _not _completely stupid. But thank you for your concern anyway. I'll remember this moment for years to come, and I'm sure it'll keep me warm at night, hihihi~"

Ange's mouth fell open slightly.

Then, her face turned bright red.

"I-idiot! Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"So I could hear you worry about me, of course~ Why else?"

"...S-stupid... s-stupid moron! I-I... I... ... I-I _wasn't even worried_!"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Yeah it's standard safety with a gun to always treat any gun like it's loaded to prevent accidents… but I think Amakusa would definitely know whether it was loaded or not, ahaha XD  
>I-I apologize for some of the slightly misogynistic comments in here. I feel stuff like this would be IC for a person like Amakusa to saythink, but they don't represent my own views. Amakusa's just a bit of a git.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	252. Losing his touch

****Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>**Short #252: Losing his touch

* * *

><p>It was beginning to feel like that damn jar of honey was laughing at him. It was bad enough that Beatrice liked to greet him with a not-so-sophisticated chorus of cackle, cackle, cackle every morning, so he really, <em>really <em>didn't want inanimate objects to get in on the act, too.

Now, however, there really was no denying it.

That stupid jar just _refused _to open.

No matter what he did, and no matter how much strength he exerted, he simply could not get the damn lid off. It refused to budge an inch. His palms were getting sore and red, and no matter what he did nothing seemed to work.

Aaah, maybe if he just twisted like _this_, and then a liiiittle more, and then-

"Aa... aaaah... o-ow, ow, ow... ..."

A pained half-moan, half-whine forced itself from between his lips. That last burst of energy, screwing up all his strength and forcing it out in a desperate attempt to triumph over the stuck lid, had completely failed.

Those shady performance-enhancing drugs he'd ordered from the backs of magazines a few years ago hadn't helped one jot.

He was completely powerless.

This was a battle that damn jar of honey had definitely won.

It felt like all the skin had been scraped off his hands.

Aah, o-ow; ow, ow, ow- this was even more painful than the time Ange had knocked over a bowl of boiling hot miso soup onto his lap by mistake; a-aah, why did everything in this stupid place, from eating breakfast (_thank you_, Beelzebub) to getting dressed (Gaap had a nasty habit of hiding his shoes in the Abyss) to opening _jars of honey _so he could have something sweet to eat on his toast such a huge pain in the ass?

Or hands, in this case.

Tch.

Still wincing, Battler abandoned the stubborn jar and blew on the ruined palms of his hands. His skin was bright red, and it was actually beginning to flake off in places.

Gaaaah.

Blowing on them didn't make them sting any less; if anything, it only made them hurt _more_- aaah, h-he really needed to run those under a cold water tap before they exploded in a burst of flame like a comet or something, he needed to-

"Hm? Having a productive morning, are we? You look as if you've been rather busy, pu ku ku~"

"Oh, get the hell out of the way!"

With that, Battler shoved Ronove roughly to one side. The demon butler had been stood before the sink methodically washing dishes- but not anymore.

Battler's needs were far, far greater than the stupid dishes.

Thankfully, Ronove didn't put up much (or any) resistance, and moved obligingly.

Aaah, finally, _finally, _Battler was able to soothe his injuries somewhat under the water from the tap.

That felt pretty nice~

"Are you alright?" asked Ronove with light-hearted amusement, laughing. "Was that jar giving you some trouble?"

"Heh. Juuust a little. What kind of question is that anyway, seriously?" Battler rolled his eyes. "Were you just stood there watching me struggle, sniggering? I bet you were. That's how you get your kicks, isn't it? Watching me _suffer._"

"Pu ku ku~ Well, I won't deny it was somewhat amusing witnessing your crushing defeat at the metaphorical hands of an inanimate object..."

"Pfft. Shameless bastard."

"I prefer 'truthful'. Being truthful is a virtue, yes?" said Ronove, smiling teasingly. "But, I wasn't merely watching. I _was_ washing the dishes, too. You appear to be in the way now, however, so I cannot finish the job. My, my. How troublesome."

"Yeah, it is. It's troublesome that everything wants to make me miserable in this damn place. First, there's Beato, and then those big-boobed sisters that always pester me- and now I'm getting bullied by a jar of honey."

"Challenges are healthy, though. They're the best kind of medicine to keep people young."

"Whatever. Gah."

Battler made a small noise of contempt as he turned his sore hands over under the steady stream of water. Some of his skin was flaking away, and those red sores didn't look all that healthy. They didn't hurt as much as they had done before, however. Battler wasn't sure whether that was thanks to the water, or because of Ronove distracting him with conversation.

"If you were really that much of a gentleman," said Battler, "then wouldn't you have stepped in to help me?"

"If I did try to help you, you wouldn't have let me. I doubt your pride would have allowed you to accept my assistance. I understand slightly better than you might believe, Battler~"

Irritatingly enough, Ronove's analysis was spot on. Battler would never have let that demon butler help him with something like this. Battler would've instantly construed any comment as a criticism or a poorly veiled insult, and that wouldn't have done anything other than piss him off.

Urgh.

It was always annoying when Ronove was right.

"However... watching you struggle has begun to tug on even my heartstrings by now," Ronove continued, not unkindly- though his voice was definitely mischievous, teasing. "Could I be of some assistance with your rather stiff problem, Battler?~"

Aaargh. W-why did Ronove have to phrase things like that?

Aah… B-battler got the distinct feeling, if he allowed himself to be irritated by it Ronove would only laugh at him. H-haa...

W-whatever.

I-it wasn't like it even mattered.

"Hihi... i-ihihi, s-sure... knock yourself out..." With a bold smile, Battler said, "I'm looking forwards to seeing what you can do, demon butler! Why don't you just see if you can overcome that formidable foe that beat even me? Ihihihihi~"

Heheh~ The best defence against Ronove's shameless flirting was obviously to act like a shounen anime hero.

It was a genius plan.

Ronove looked at Battler's confident smile for a few moments in askance, slightly confused- but, in a matter of moments, he soon overcame this. Then, he started to laugh.

"Aah, you do have such an invigorating way of phrasing things~ Let's see if I can defeat this foe who cruelly caused Lord Battler so much trouble, then, hm?~ I am completely at your disposal, Your Majesty. I will try my best."

"Ihihihi, good luck!~ You're gonna need it; that kind of monster is way, way tougher than a common low level slime monster!"

"Ah, well, I, a demon of such high caliber, certainly couldn't allow myself to lose to a creature like this, even if it is stronger than a slime monster, pu ku ku~ Leave it to me, Lord Battler. Please stand back so you don't get hurt when I unleash my limit break~"

"Right! I'm counting on you! Don't let your HP get too low, okay?~"

Ronove laughed, running a hand through his hair in a dismissive manner. "As if I would make such an amateur mistake, pu ku ku~"

Battler and Ronove both exchanged slightly silly smiles at this. It was a smile that two friends might have shared over a silly joke, which would have been completely idiotic or incomprehensible to anybody else. In the end, it wasn't really that funny, anyway. It was just kind of nice having somebody to mess around with like this.

Ahaha, it was pretty easy to get caught up in this stupid kind of atmosphere when they were both acting like idiots. When Ronove played along with Battler, he could be... really, a lot of fun to be with.

E-even if he was completely insufferable 99% of the time… seriously.

"Alright... here I go."

And with that, Ronove picked up the jar, and firmly took hold of the lid.

That firm grip lasted for about all of 0.05 seconds.

It was a shame he'd forgotten, in a moment of rather unusual absent minded-ness (being with Battler always seemed to reduce his general stats by about 10%; having fun also came with the unfortunate drawback of getting careless and clumsy), that his own hands were wet from washing the dishes earlier. He hadn't dried them.

So, maybe it was only to be expected when, after grappling with the glass jar for a mere handful of moments-

"A-aah... ...?"

-his fingers slipped.

They slipped completely.

He couldn't hold onto the glass properly-

-and the whole jar shot of his soapy fingers.

It hit the floor with a resounding _crash_.

Instantly, the jar, the harbinger of pain and tragedy, broke into three large, jagged pieces- with smaller shards of glass scattered here and there, glistening on the floor, for extra effect.

These bits of glass were all mixed up with the spilt, sticky honey.

Mmm… maybe the glass would make it a little crunchier? Maybe it would add a sense of danger to eating it, which would make it more exciting? Ihihihi…

Ronove looked at the jar- or, to be more precise, the shards on the floor.

So did Battler.

Then they both lifted their heads and looked at each other.

Oh. Now, that was a surprise. Ronove… actually looked shocked. Truly shocked. Apparently, he hadn't intended to that.

Pfft. So, even that guy could screw up from time to time, huh?

Battler couldn't help but smirk- even if he had really, really wanted to eat that honey. Licking it off the floor wasn't an option (regardless of what Beato said, he wasn't a dog), but... ihihi~ Maybe that completely priceless expression on Ronove's face was even more delicious than any honey would've been. Yeah, really; that face was satisfying enough to ponder over whilst he ate his toast dry, without anything on top, because a look of open shock like that from the usually smiling Ronove really was very, very sweet. If he put any honey on his toast now he wouldn't be able to savor that expression properly~

"Ihihihi... Well, that was one way to get the honey out, I guess? Good job?"

"Mm... pu ku ku... I-I'll be the first to admit that wasn't _entirely _graceful- nor what I had in mind..." said Ronove, smiling an unusually embarrassed smile. "You really don't need to say anything on the matter, I know what you must be thinking anyway..."

"Yeah. I don't have to say anything... I mean, it's plain you've made an idiot out of yourself with my commentary on the matter- I can tell by that blush all over your faaace, ihihihi~ So… it'd probably be overkill of me to bully you~"

Ronove laughed and shook his head.

He was already resigned to his fate of being mercilessly teased about this, so it wasn't really a question, more a statement, when he said, "But you're going to anyway, aren't you?"

Battler smirked.

"Like hell I am."


	253. The sweet world of witches

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #253: The sweet world of witches

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><p>"Uu! Look what Maria's got, look, look! Look what Mama bought Maria!"<p>

Her face radiating with a soft, happy smile, the young apprentice witch eagerly held up a paper bag for Beatrice to inspect.

"Oh? Did Rosa buy you a gift? How thoughtful," said Beatrice, returning Maria's earnest smile with one of her own. "Let's see what she bought you, then, let's see~ Ufufufu~"

Beatrice might have been the Golden, Endless Witch, but at that particular moment she was as dissimilar from the common stereotype of witches as it was possible to be. She wasn't cackling cruelly, face contorted into an inhuman expression, lips pulled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Instead, the simple joy on her face made her look innocent and kind; especially when complimented by her sea blue eyes, and her soft golden hair.

It was probably a good thing Maria was the only one who could see her, thought Beatrice with an amused chuckle, or her reputation as a cruel and ruthless witch would crumble into dust. How would she be able to face the Witch's Senate or Bernkastel if they knew of this side of her character?

Ahahaha!~ At least she wasn't foolishly sentimental like Teacher yet. It would be a long, long time before Beatrice the Golden would ever enjoy mundane tasks like knitting, ufufufufu~

… …

She... had only done it that one time, a-anyway... j-just to make a gift for Maria... ... s-so it wasn't like it was a habit or anything!

... Muu.

The brown paper bag crinkled under Beatrice's fingertips as she took it gently from Maria's hands. She peered inside it, interested to see what kind of present could make Maria so cheerful- and was amused, but not entirely surprised, to find the contents of the bag weren't really all that spectacular.

It looked like some kind of sweet food- though Beatrice wasn't sure what, exactly.

Oh well. The present wasn't amazing, but in Maria's eyes, Beatrice knew those sweets meant more to the little girl than six tonnes of gold ever could. That was because these sweets were a gift from her precious mother, Rosa.

Not many children would have been so enamoured or so impressed with small, inexpensive treats from their parents- and they certainly wouldn't have flushed with pride as Maria was; but that was because those children weren't like Maria. They didn't know how to be grateful because their lives were free from pain and misery. Maria had suffered so much for a child her age, but she hadn't fallen apart because of these negative experiences. Instead, she had turned them into something positive. The misery Maria had suffered helped the small girl be more appreciative of the bits of happiness she could find amidst the rubble of despair. Unlike other children, Maria was now polish up small presents like this into beautiful memories filled with joy. The process was a little bit like alchemy, Beatrice mused. Maria could, with her innocence and optimism, turn pebbles or clods of dirt into gold.

And, in the end, even a great witch like Beatrice could admire that.

She respected that.

And that was why she loved spending time with Maria.

"What a nice gift," said Beatrice pleasantly. "Yes- I suppose, even after one thousand years, food really is the best way to win favor with people. It doesn't matter how far the human race advances- they will always need to eat to remain alive. It's the same for witches, too. That is why food is such a great pleasure and joy, and why rare delicacies make such lovely gifts. Ahahahaha!~ Maybe that's why I put up with that troublesome butler... Ufufufu~"

"Kihihihi~ That's what Mama says, too! Mama says, if Maria learns to cook, then Maria will be popular with boys! Mama says people who can cook are always loved, kihihi~"

"Oooh? Rosa cooks with you?"

Something about the notion of Maria in one of her frilly dresses, an apron round her middle, smiling and clapping her hands whilst a beaming Rosa showed her how exactly to roll out the chocolate chip cookie dough was too cute~ Beatrice loved imagining cute family scenes like that, ufufufu~ I-it was another one of her weaknesses...

It wasn't as if Beato was projecting her own childhood memories of baking with Teacher and Ronove into that idle daydream at all or anything…

Cheerfully, Maria replied, "Uu! Sometimes cook with Mama when she's not too tired! Uu! Maria likes cooking! It's like magic! You put lots and lots of ingredients in a bowl and mix, like making a magic ceremony- and then the oven makes everything taste nice an hour later! It is magic, just like magic! Uu! Uu!"

"That's right, that's right!" said Beatrice excitedly. "W-when I was a child, Teacher told me food got tasty and fluffy when you put it in the oven because little fairies lived inside it... A-and she said I couldn't ever open the oven when the fairies were working their magic because they were very shy, and would hide, so the food wouldn't cook properly. M-muuu..." She pouted. "I-it's not like I... believed it, though... ..."

"Well, Maria knows it's not fairies in the oven at home! They would be destroyed by the anti-magic toxin, uu, uu."

"Heh. T-that is true... Ahaha."

"Maria's good at cooking at school, too, uu~ The teacher always praises Maria! Uu, uu! It's the only lesson I like."

"Well, everybody's talented at different things, right? It's foolish for schools to assume an intelligent student has to be the one who performs perfectly in every single different topic. It's rare humans are truly talented at everything; it's more natural for a student to be strong in one area and weak in another," said Beatrice- perhaps with a little resentment in her voice. "Humans are so silly. They place unrealistic expectations upon people, and then grow angry when these expectations aren't met. It's so ridiculous I could laugh."

"But some humans are nice! Mama's nice, and Miss. Yamazaki is nice too, uu, uu! So don't be sad for Maria. Look." Maria beamed. "Have some fudge! Want to share with Bea~to, want to share!"

Beatrice's blue eyes widened a little in surprise. "Ooh? For me...? Really?"

"Uu! Yes! Have some fudge, have some!~"

"W-well, if that's alright... but... ... muu..."

"What is it, Beato?~" asked Maria innocently. "Don't you like fudge?"

"W-well, it's just... um..."

Beatrice's face worked through a series of emotions; mostly confused, curious ones.

Then, finally... flushing just a little bit... Beatrice admitted, with an awkward laugh, "A-ahaha...! W-well, I am the great Golden Witch, so naturally I am very knowledgeable on many topics pertaining to magic, but... ahaha... Umu, I've been bound to Rokkenjima for nearly fifty years... S-so I haven't really had a chance to witness how the human world has developed during that time, so... aah, I-I... ... have never seen this type of candy before... I-it doesn't look Japanese? I'm just curious about what it will taste like, that's all…"

Maria looked at Beatrice for a few moments, blinking slowly.

Then she began to giggle.

It was always fun when Beato didn't know things.

It meant Maria got to repay Beato for teaching her so much about magic, by helping her just a little bit in return.


	254. Candy candy

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #254: Candy candy<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bern! Watch this!"<p>

No response.

"Come on, Beeeeern~ Look at me!"

Silence.

"Humph! Bern, you're such a huge meanie. Here I am, gonna show you best trick since aliens built the pyramids, and you're still reading your stupid old book! Aaah, I hate you when you're being like this, Bern! Tsu~un!"

...And, precisely as predicted, that comment managed to get a rise from the usually stoic Witch of Miracles.

Ufufufu- Bern was so cute and predictable~ No matter how calm and aloof she liked to act, she was really, reaaaally easy to tease if you knew exactly where to pi~inch and poke and proood~ Something like this was a piece of cake for the cute and pop Witch of Certainty, Lambdadelta! Oh ho ho!

Slamming her book shut with a dull thud, Bernkastel gave Lambdadelta a slightly irritated look with narrowed eyes.

"Slaves built the pyramids, Lambdadelta. Lots and lots of slaves. Not aliens. We've been through this."

"I know we have, but I'm still not entirely convinced~" said Lambdadelta, giggling. "For a witch, you're awfully un-accepting of the existence of other creatures, you know?"

"That's because I have better things to do than attributing the existence of the ordinary and mundane to the incredible. Conspiracy theories are the refuge of the stupid who want a little more excitement in their dull little lives."

Lambdadelta smirked. "Ha~ You're so dismissive, Bern. But, remember- us witches live in the gaps of uncertainty caused by humans' lack of understanding, riiight?~ Conspiracy theories really are useful to help us thrive! Don't bite the hand that feeds you so easily! Oh ho ho!~"

There was a small silence. A rather ugly expression flickered across Bernkastel's face, as she realized she'd been caught out somehow.

Oooh, Bern looked kind of annoyed. What kind of cutting comeback would she throw now? Lambda wondered, she wondered...~ Ufufufufu~

Then, with a small sigh, Bernkastel flipped her strands of blue hair over one shoulder- and said coldly;

"Shut up."

It was, admittedly, a bit of a let down.

"Ooh, whatever- now I have your attention, I can finally show you my incredible party trick!" said Lambdadelta brightly, with a radiant smile. "Look, Bern- look! This is just a piece of regular kompeito candy, yes?"

True to her words, the piece of candy Lambda had summoned between her black gloved fingers looked perfectly ordinary. It was a little, pink, sugary disc that would slowly dissolve on the tongue. There was nothing spectacular about it.

...Then again, Lambdadelta was a witch. She might have acted like an airhead, but Bernkastel knew not to take her lightly. Lambdadelta's twisted little mind truly was incredible when it came to dreaming up the most bizarre punishment games. That hot fudge bubble bath, for example...

"I don't suppose that candy will explode if I try to eat it, will it?" asked Bernkastel, voice deadpan.

"Of course not! I said it was normal, didn't I? And it's not one of Virgilia's weird mackerel flavored candies, either!~ It's per~fectly normal! I can state it with certainty!"

"Hm. Well, even the most normal of objects can be used in bizarre ways. Are you going to try and push it in my eyes, Lambda?"

"Wr~ong again! Oh ho ho!~_ I'm_ going to eat it, okay, not you; and it's definitely not going anywhere near your eyes!" Lambda beamed; running her pink tongue sneakily across the surface of the candy in a single motion. "Mmmn~ but I'm going to eat it in a really cool and interesting way! Are you watching?"

"I suppose I don't have a choice."

Bernkastel said it in a monotone; seemingly bored of this silly show. Even so, she made no move to leave. That was Bern-talk for 'I like you so I suppose I'll stay by your side for a little while- but I'm going to pretend I'm scary and mean and uninterested to save face, okay?'

Lambda knew her darling Bern too well.

"Okay, okay! This is really incredible!" said Lambdadelta excitedly. "Watch... ... _**this**_!"

With one deft movement, she threw the piece of candy up into the air- as though it were a coin in a game of probability. Lambdadelta looked at the piece of candy determinedly, butterscotch eyes narrowed with resolve. Time seemed to slow down. She opened her mouth.

She tried to catch the candy.

And catch the candy, she did.

But not on her tongue, as she had intended.

Instead, the candy had fallen elegantly back down through the air via the force of gravity...

"H-hngh...? U-uwaaaah…?"

...and it landed directly in her left nostril.

Lambda's eyes snapped opened in shock.

It took a few moments for her sugar-filled brain to register there was a very small, very hard obstruction now residing uncomfortably inside her nasal cavity; blocking her airway.

When she did realize, she began to squeal.

"B-bern… … T-that wasn't meant to happen…"

Bernkastel surveyed Lambdadelta for a few moments in silence. Then, she began to clap very slowly. Judging by that mean smirk on her face, it looked like she was trying very, very hard not to laugh.

* * *

><p>"Oh my... that is lodged in quite deep indeed," said Virgilia in that warm, motherly tone of hers', as she gently tipped Lambda's head back to peer up her blocked left nostril. "It looks quite painful..."<p>

Lambdadelta pouted. Oh, the indignity of it all- a great witch like herself, asking Virgilia to get a bit of candy out her nose! Aaaah, it was so embarrassing, maybe she'd just die! Her insides would melt in a sticky sugary pink sludge-smush and she'd die!

She'd probably leave behind a really, really tasty corpse, though. Then, her Bern could eat her, and they'd be together forever!~

Ooh, that didn't sound too bad…

"I-It is painful!" Lambda wailed. "If it wasn't painful, I wouldn't have asked for help! Can you get it out?"

"I can try... after all, I am well equipped to deal with accidents like this. When she was younger, Beato used to get into all kinds of odd scrapes; bruising her knees, or getting splinters- that kind of thing. But, Lady Lambdadelta… how did something like this happen to you?"

"I-I just wanted to look cool in front of Bern!"

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Written because I'm so excited for the Lambda Ougon patch  
>Whether one of her storylines will involve her journeying around with Virgilia on a quest to remove a piece of candy from her nostril remains to be seen XD<p> 


	255. The blackest incarnation

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #255: The blackest incarnation<p>

* * *

><p>"Hehehe...~ Well, this is interesting- although I can't say I'm surprised. This type of rebellious character is very popular nowadays, isn't it?"<p>

"Hn. Thank you- but small talk like this is a pain. I'm not interested. What do you want from me… … you annoying bitch?"

"Aah! And what lovely manners, too!" Featherine said pleasantly, with a light laugh.

Her voice was soft and sweet, almost comforting- but there was a distinct undertone of scorn to it.

Regardless of how much sugar she sprinkled across her words, it couldn't mask her immense arrogance. She looked down upon him as though he was something she had found stuck to the bottom of her shoes (though he couldn't gauge how expensive her shoes were, or whether her indignation would be justified in such a scenario, given they were hidden underneath the folds of her long, pink gown). She was clearly putting that voice on, playing the part of a kindly host- but underneath her small smiles, she was laughing at him.

Mocking him.

And that... really pissed him off.

"Heh. 'Manners', yeah. Well, I always try to be polite to pretty women." He smirked. "Buuut, I don't think you really fit that criteria- being about one thousand years old."

"Oh my! You think I only look one thousand? That really is quite flattering. I suppose my facial creams work after all, ufufufu~"

"Well, one thousand, give or take a few centuries. I can never tell the real age with witches- and I don't care, either. No matter how young you look, you're all the same on the inside."

"All the same, hmm? And what does that make me; I wonder, I wonder... Ufufu~ I would be most interested to hear your opinion on me, young man."

Idly, he began to pick at the upholstery of his chair as he listened to her; tugging at the deep red thread between his pale fingers.

That crappy chair really fit the whole atmosphere of her home. It was falling apart. Litter was strewn everywhere: old books, bits of dented furniture, a candlestick, a half-empty bowl of cat food that had congealed and started to stink, attracting maggots and filthy flies...

Ihihi~ Judging by the god-awful stench that clung to every surface, the cat who'd once eaten that food was still hanging around here somewhere.

…It's corpse, anyway.

This home really did belong to an irresponsible person, didn't it? Featherine Augustus Aurora, who prided herself upon being the most powerful Theatergoing Witch of all, was nothing more than a child who couldn't clean up her own things; or her dead pets. Too bad she was way, way too old to have a mother who'd clean up after her.

Featherine was going to look down on him? Fine, fine. It was true- she probably was a lot stronger than he was. After all, she'd been able to pluck him from the sea of shifting, restless _kakera_ and dump him before her at this macabre little tea party (there were even macaroons on the table. How cute). It was pointless debating who was the most powerful. If this was rock paper scissors, she would be rock and paper, so even if he had the scissors, he'd definitely lose regardless. The imbalance between them was just that great. He could even sense her great magic even whilst she was sat there, doing nothing but sipping her cup of tea. It was kind of a... hum in the background, a gentle buzz- but it made his skin prickle all the same.

Maybe she had a right to look down on him, being so old and wise and learned.

But… she was fickle, whimsical and childish. She had lived so long she'd grown bored of life. She was bored of everything. She… really was pathetic.

So he could look down on her, too.

Ahahahaha~ Well, this was a pleasant tea party; especially when both the guests seemed to loathe each other. That was fairly commonplace between witches though, wasn't it?

Not that he was a witch.

"You know what you are," he said, voice monotone. "I already said. An annoying bitch." He paused. "...Who's really bad at acting. Stop acting so polite; I know what you are really."

"Oooh?" She leant forwards, eyes widening slightly. "What am I, then? What? Wha~aat?"

He smirked.

"A monster."

There was a small silence; broken by the dull, monotonous ticking of the grandfather clock in the background (it was a wonder it still worked at all, given its old body was littered with scratches and scars).

Then... she began to chuckle.

That soon developed into laughter.

She laughed and laughed and laughed- as though she had never heard a funnier joke in her life. If she laughed any harder, maybe her sides would've split, and the horrible black ooze that lurked inside her filthy, rotting carcass would spill out all across the chipped plate of powdery selection of macaroons.

It wasn't really funny- but after a while, he laughed too. What else was there to do?

So they laughed.

Featherine… really was sick in the head, wasn't she?

Something wasn't quite right.

And... hmm...

So was he.

Maybe they were actually bonding? What a novel idea. He didn't 'bond'; instead, he stood over fallen corpses, broken into pieces by his own hands, and laughed.

Everything… was so, so funny, though… … so he couldn't help himself.

Pfft... ahahaha... ahahahahaha...~

"How nice!" Featherine said, through her demented laughter. "Yes, I suppose that's true! I'm not a human- and I've even surpassed the levels of cruelty most witches ever do. So, what does that make me? A mineral? A vegetable? Or maybe... maybe you're right! Maybe it makes me a monster."

Cackle, cackle, cackle.

_Ahahahahahahahahaha._

Her eyes were too wide.

Her pupils were too small.

Her mouth was twisted into an insane grin.

...Yes. There was something so basic that had been broken inside that 'witch' for so long... she probably couldn't control herself properly anymore.

She really was pathetic.

"Well... now we've got my real identity cleared up- what does that make you?" she retorted; her expression gruesome. "If I am a monster, what are you- you disgusting, disturbing, _**depraved**_ creature I plucked, with my own fingers, from the blackest kakera I could find? You, who have killed again and again and again, slaughtering thousands, to sate your own desires- to find a purpose to even be alive... You, who has to kill and stain your hands with blood to justify your own existence? You, who so desperately wants to prove you are your own person, and not HIM? If I'm a monster... what are you? What are you?~ I've been curious for so long, you know!"

He laughed coldly. "I know you've been intrigued. That's why you bothered to bring such a cute selection of sweets to this tea party. How nice; I'm flattered~ Ihihihi~ Not even that demon butler got me such a lovely present when I first saw him."

Featherine smiled as though recalling the face of an old friend- though, of course, this wasn't right. She didn't have friends.

"Oh, you mean Ronove? He is quite a talented butler, isn't he? I'm sure he would have served you some delicious tea if you asked politely."

"I don't ask. I got sick of asking._ Don't die, mom. Don't abandon her memory, dad. Don't make me hate you. Don't make me kill you. Oh, you're scared? Don't worry... I'll make it all stop._ Ihihihihi~ So I don't** ask** anymore, you see? I only take what I want~ Even with demons... Even with witches.

"… …Even with monsters."

His eyes narrowed. They were smouldering. Very slowly, deliberately... he ran his tongue across his upper lip. When he next spoke, his voice was low; almost sensual.

"Heheh. You want to know what I am, oh Great Lady Featherine?"

She smiled; her previous laughter from usual gone, as though it had never occurred at all. Calmly, she spoke; "I can make an educated guess- but I'd love to hear something this outrageous come from the mouth of a man who looks so much like _him_. Tell me. Tell me what you are."

Featherine's eyes shone with a strange kind of insanity. Maybe it was his presence, as an 'interesting piece', that had sparked this kind of energy in her; or maybe she had always been this mad, and her insanity was feeding into his.

Maybe they were feeding each other.

Well… it wasn't like it mattered.

Nothing really mattered.

He laughed.

And, leaning forwards, he said clearly, and unmistakably...

"Why. It's because _I'm_ a monster, too- just like you. I'm the culprit of the Rokkenjima Mass Murder... ...

"_**Ushiromiya Battler**_."

* * *

><p><strong>an**: Some Black Batora fic based on the TIP Forgery Number XXX 'cause I know a certain person who really really likes him, ufufufu XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	256. Jewellery

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #256: Jewellery

* * *

><p>"Shannon- n-no…" George corrected himself, shaking his head slightly. "<em>Sayo<em>."

Shannon looked up from her arduous task of cleaning the main dining hall and greeted George with a warm smile. Shannon's expression, coupled with the lingering scent of disinfectant and pine that hovered through the grandiose, well furnished room was enough to make George feel light-headed.

"Why, hello, Master- n-no, _George_," Shannon returned, her voice slightly mischievous. Two light pink spots blossomed against her cheeks as she spoke. She could hardly believe she was able to speak so easily to another man now- especially to somebody calm and composed (generally) like George.

"Ahaha, you're getting kind of feisty now," said George, smiling. "I guess I have to keep my wits about me when I'm with you."

"Maybe you do~ Hehehe~"

"A-anyway, Sayo…" Looking somewhat embarrassed, George put a hand in his pocket- shifting about whatever was inside anxiously, in a manner that only made Shannon curious. "I have something for you."

"A present?"

"Y-yeah, aha… Something like that…"

"Oh, I don't know if I could accept that," said Shannon anxiously, her earlier good humor falling away. "It would be unprofessional of me… A-almost as if I were taking advantage of you… I-I'm not interested in you because of your money, you know…"

"You're not taking advantage of me, silly. I bought you a present because I like you."

"A-ahh, well… I like you too. A-a lot."

"And, if we're in mutual agreement about that, then what's to stop me from proving my affections every once in a while?"

"Alright then- if it would make you happy! A-ah, though, of course, any gift from you would make me happy, too- I-I don't want to seem ungrateful!" said Shannon, rising to her feet and bowing her head. "I-I just don't know what to say!"

"You don't need to say anything. You can let the expression on your face answer for you."

"G-george…"

And with that, George finally- though still with a slight air of embarrassment about his features- drew Shannon's present out of his pocket. He handed the small, nondescript box to Shannon and, with trembling fingers, the young maid opened it-

-to reveal a delicate, feather-light pair of solid gold earrings. They had been crafted into the shape of small butterflies.

Shannon gasped.

"George, t-these are beautiful! They're so beautiful, in fact, I don't know if I can accept them!"

"Nonsense. You're far more attractive than any jewellery. If anything, these look bland compared to you. I'm sorry that I couldn't find a more fitting gift."

"No, they're lovely- impossibly lovely, and… George, I'm not worthy of a present like this! I-I mean…" Shannon's face turned light pink. "P-perhaps… I-it's not to say I'm not happy, I couldn't be happier, but… well, maybe if it was my birthday, but-"

"Wait a minute." George's expression clouded. "It's not your birthday?"

"No."

"But Kumasawa told me… She _explicitly _said that I should buy you a present because… because…" George frowned. Then, a light bulb went off in his mind.

He groaned.

"S-she… was playing a joke on me… wasn't she… …?"

Sensing George's embarrassment, Shannon hasted to comfort him. "Oh, but- i-it doesn't matter if it isn't! They're lovely earrings, George! They're a little extravagant, but I love them, I-"

"Extravagant?"

"Y-yes; far more than I could afford e-even after a few months of working… so you see, though I appreciate your sentiments, I-"

"Wait. They're _that_ expensive?" Poor George, at this point, now looked completely baffled, as though he had just discovered the color blue was a myth and it was ordained by law everyone had to wear a duck on their head on Sundays. "I-I thought… Well, I knew they were expensive- but I didn't realize they were… that costly… Aaah… m-maybe I look like a snob now; maybe it seems I don't understand the value of money at all? I'm sorry… A-and I know you probably wouldn't be able to wear something this expensive without getting questions from Aunt Natsuhi, b-but I thought, something like this would be fitting… for a birthday present…? Maybe… Aaaah…"

Or un-birthday, as it was.

George's face turned light pink.

"I'm sorry, Sayo! I can't believe I messed up _that_ badly. If I've made you feel awkward or upset then I-"

"Of course I'm not upset," said Shannon, shaking her head. "They're beautiful. I am merely… surprised… that you would give such a present to me- but then again…" She smiled softly. "I suppose I really shouldn't be. You have already given me something much more valuable."

"Hm? And… what's that? I wonder, I wonder… ahaha…"

Shannon tipped her head to one side, a small, shy smile on her face. Giggling softly, she said, "Oh, come on… ehehe~ You're being overly modest. I mean, um… t-this is… what I meant… …"

And then she got up on her tiptoes slightly tremulously, anxiously… and gently pressed her lips against George's in a quick, chaste kiss.

It lasted no less than a second or two, but it was enough to make both of them flush- as though they were school children confessing their first crushes, rather than adults. George, surprisingly enough, was the most flustered though. If the heat from his face had been a little hotter, he probably could have steamed up the lenses of his glasses.

"But, I'm curious…" Shannon laughed. "I wonder how you're going to top those earrings on my _real _birthday, hm? Hehe~"

"Oh…" George laughed awkwardly, his face turning redder. "I-I, um… ahaha… … I-I really have no idea… …"


	257. Ignorance is bliss

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #257: Ignorance is bliss<p>

* * *

><p>"Where are we going, big bro?"<p>

Rosa's little feet made light, inaudible taps as they fell against the grey sidewalk. She had to toddle quickly to keep up with her big brother; her hand clasped firmly in his to help he keep the pace. This pace was no problem at all for Rudolf, with his long and confident strides, but Rosa only had short legs so she was struggling.

The age gap between Rudolf and Rosa was about nine years, give or take, so naturally Rudolf would have been taller- but that was further exacerbated by the fact Rudolf had only just gone through a huge growth spurt. He was now just a few inches shy of Krauss; something that he took a great amount of pride in, much to Eva's irritation.

"It's not as if being tall is something to boast about," she would say, rolling her eyes. "You didn't have to work hard at it, did you? It'd be far, far better if you focused on your studies; then you might _actually_ have something to be proud _about_."

And Rudolf would always retort, smirking in a smug, self-satisfied way Rosa found cool, but Eva loathed beyond reason, "Ihihi~ Oh, come on, big siiis~ I put a lot of effort into obtaining this height by exercising regularly and taking all those shady performance enhancing drugs…~ You're just jealous because now I can tower down over you, ri~ight?~ You don't like being looked down on, do you? Heheheh."

"D-don't be absurd! Why would I be jealous over something so petty and childish?"

"Hm, I don't know...~ Maybe because you_ are_ petty and childish?"

After a comment like that, the 'pleasant conversation' (ha, ha) would typically degenerate into something like this:

"B-be quiet, you insolant brat! Unlike you, I actually try hard in my studies! That is something to be proud of- but what have you accomplished in your pathetic little life?"

"I dated three girls at the same time in the same class for two weeks without anybody noticing?"

"…You really are a horrible person."

"Takes one to know one, sis~"

"_Shut up_."

And, if Eva was in a particularly waspish mood, she would stalk off with a face filled with thunder, muttering under her breath about how Rudolf should just 'give up and die.'

That always, always made him snigger.

So, Rudolf was unnaturally tall for his age- much to his delight. It made it easier to piss off Eva. Looking down at the top of his head, arms folded, seemed to spark some kind of complex in her. She didn't like it when people were condescending.

Aaah~ To think; in a few more years, Rudolf would probably be able to do that to Krauss too~ That'd put the old bastard in his place- and pay him back for all those times when he broke Rudolf's toy cars and trains when they were younger. Being tall meant being powerful, after all. When he was younger, Rudolf had always been in awe of Eva and Krauss for their height, and the supposed maturity that went with it; so now he'd finally caught them up, it felt pretty damn sweet.

Too bad Krauss didn't really play with trains anymore, so Rudolf wouldn't have the fun of breaking those- but he could at least laugh at him if he couldn't get certain jars down from difficult shelves, which was a small comfort.

Plus, being this tall meant it was a lo~ot easier to get older girls who didn't know what his real age was, ihihi~

Rosa, meanwhile, didn't have the same mutant growth genes Rudolf had been blessed with. Instead, she was very small for her age, and delicate-looking, too. With her chubby cheeks, wide eyes and fair, butterscotch hair, which glowed gold in the sunlight, she was almost like a baby doll. Her small, stubby little fingers and toes were so small, they were akin to a newborn child's.

Their mother's love of dressing Rosa up in the most infantile, frilly dresses (with matching bows to tie up her pigtails, no less) imaginable didn't help matters, either.

Fortunately, Rosa didn't really mind being babied by their mother that much. She wasn't like Eva- whom Rudolf distinctly remembered had hated being forced into amusingly unfitting dresses. Rosa wasn't a fierce, feisty, tomboyish kid who liked climbing trees of competing with other boys her age, like Eva had been. Rosa was a sweet child who loved fairytales about handsome princes. When mother bought her a new dress, her eyes lit up.

That girl adored wearing pretty clothes and looking cute. Everybody who saw Rosa said she looked like an angel. A cherub. A real darling.

...Everybody apart from Kinzo, that was. Sometimes, Rudolf got the distinct feeling his old man wouldn't have spat on any of his kids if they were on fire.

That didn't matter, though. Rosa was a 'precious baby' to all who passed her on the street- and a 'precious baby' was exactly what Rudolf needed for his plan to succeed. Ihihihi...~

"Big bro?" Rosa tried again; gently squeezing her fingers round Rudolf's. "Big bro, where are we going?"

Rudolf smiled at her comfortingly. "I already said. The park. I'm going to take you out. Push you on the swing. Get some ice-cream? Doesn't that sound nice?"

"A-aah! I-ice-cream? Can I have strawberry? Or, no... chocolate? Um..." Rosa frowned, deliberating. Ice-cream from a cone was a rare treat, so she wanted to get the flavor exactly right so she could cherish this memory forever.

Rudolf, being more perceptive than he looked (and often acted), knew this, and smiled. "Ahaha~ You can have chocolate and strawberry if you really can't decide, you little brat."

"H-huh? Really?"

"Really, really~ I'm not like Eva or Krauss, see? I treat you."

"A treat? Aaah… a treat!" And Rosa's trusting little face lit up, wreathed with happy smiles. "Hehe! Rudolf treats me! Thank you! Love you!"

"I love you too~"

Rudolf returned Rosa's smile with one of his own well-practised ones; his white teeth seeming to sparkle under the sunlight.

It might not have looked it, and Rosa certainly hadn't noticed… but underneath his pleasant façade Rudolf, 'the model big brother', was silently scheming.

When he met Asumu at the park, she'd see him playing with Rosa; pushing her on the swings, and even buying her two ice-creams. Kindness like that had to rewarded, right? Asumu would melt like the aforementioned frozen snack under the sunshine when she realized how incredible Rudolf was~ He'd prove to her he had the right skills to look after her unborn children.

Then Asumu would _have_ to go out with him.

Girls liked sweet and sensitive guys, right?

Ihihi... ihihihihi~

Rudolf would never have taken his little sis out willingly for any other reason than personal gain.

It wasn't like Rosa needed to know that or anything, though~


	258. Defence mechanism

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #258: Defence mechanism<p>

* * *

><p>Jessica never performed particularly well during tests, but she wasn't a stupid girl. She just wasn't good at memorizing boring, dull, useless math she'd never ever need in the real world (much to Natsuhi's disappointment).<p>

Jessica was incredibly talented, however, at slightly more practical things.

After only three years of self study every other lunch break at school, she'd become more than competent at playing the guitar. She could write and perform her own music with her band. She excelled at sports. She was well-liked and popular, and became the head of the student council easily- even though she didn't really want to be the head at all. She was fairly skilled at boxing, and still remembered bits and pieces of technique her father had told her; at least, until Natsuhi put her foot down on that, and said boxing wasn't a fitting activity for girls.

Moreover, Jessica wasn't the kind of person who waited around saying they would do something, but never did. She was bold and determined, and she had enough self-confidence to forcefully turn her dreams into reality, with certainty.

Maybe she was a little bit like her father in that sense. He always threw everything he had into all his numerous business ventures, too... ...not, necessarily, to great success- but even so.

So, Ushiromiya Jessica wasn't stupid.

She didn't get very good grades, but nobody- not even Natsuhi when she was in a bad temper- could ever have called her 'stupid'.

That was why Jessica thought up a cunning alibi to avoid embarrassment long before she actually came to sliding the cute books over the counter for the cashier to take.

_They're for my cousin, my nine-year-old cousin. She likes this kind of thing; magical girl manga and stuff. It's for my cousin. It's for my cousin._

_I'm not buying it for me._

Jessica ran these lines through her head over and over as she stood in the small queue at the bookstore; trying her best to get them to sound natural. Maybe she should add a bit of embarrassed laughter on the end, too; _e-ehehe... I-it's not like I really like this kind of thing, you know? I _am_ eighteen._

Did that sound 'natural'? Did she sound convincing? Should she laugh? Shouldn't she?

Hm... maybe it would be best not to say anything at all. Immediately taking a defensive stance before the opponent (in this case, the cashier) said anything might have seemed a bit too suspicious. If the cashier never brought up why a girl of Jessica's age was buying such childish books, then Jessica probably shouldn't bring it up either.

Probably.

But what if they judged her?

Ahaha... w-well, so what? She was a bright, bouncy girl (n-not in the chest sense though, pervert!), and she didn't care what people thought about her. She would adopt her 'Jessie' persona that she used at school, and on stage during the culture festival, and any suspicious glances from the kid at the counter would roll off her back like raindrops! _Jessie_ would never let something like this fluster her! Wahahaha!

...B-but, if they asked... i-it would probably be best to say they were for her cousin after all.

Liking cute, girlie things like Card Master Sakura at her age... r-really was a bit embarrassing... ehehehe...

W-well, whatever. She was sure it would be fine! She was Dazzling Jessie, and it would be alright! It would! It-

"Um... Jessie. It's your turn."

That familiar voice snapped Dazzling Jessie out of her daydreamy trance at once. She'd been stood there in her own world for the past few seconds; happily unaware, as she fretted over the cute volumes of manga clutching in her slightly sweaty fingers, that she'd been holding up the queue. The cashier was waving at her to come forward- a benign, soothing smile on their face.

Jessica… knew that smile.

She knew that cute face, those almond shaped eyes, that snub nose, that black, slightly wavy hair and the soft, sweet style of speech.

That girl was so unassuming, and so irritatingly attractive, that she said some really outrageous things without people even noticing at first.

Yes, Jessica knew the cashier all too well. She only sat next to her in class every day; was rebuked by that gentle voice when she tried to copy her homework; and listened to her playing the bass in their band at their club.

It was Hina.

Jessica had been so busy trying to think up an excuse for that embarrassing girlish manga... s-she had completely failed to notice who her cashier was.

And Jessica got the distinct, sinking feeling none of her excuses would hold up in front of Hina. That girl was eerily perceptive.

Damn.

Frickin' hell.

"Jessie," said Hina, in her gentle, ladylike voice Jessica would never be able to emulate, "you're holding up the line. Hehe...~" A soft giggle. "I understand you might be a bit... flustered... if you're just buying cute manga for young girls; but, although I stopped reading that kind of thing a while ago, it is quite relaxing- so I understand why you would like it. Hehe~"

"D-damn it! They're not for me, okay? S-shut up, Hina!"

"Hmm... alright then~"

"I-I swear, they're not! A-aah...! Be quiet! Stop bullying me!"

Jessica's face turned dark red.

...She might not have been an idiot- but sometimes, she really wasn't very perceptive.

... ...Or a good liar.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I apologize for the unusually long wait between updates, some stuff happened and then my life got kind of crazy for a bit… but I think it's settled down now ^^ And it was nothing bad (quite the contrary!) so you don't need to worry, ahaha ^^ Hopefully I can update this story regularly, once a day, again.  
>However, I don't think I'm going to be able to take any requests for the foreseeable future. I think I should be able to manage some shorter ones, but I really don't think I could do any long requests, since I've been strangely busy all of a sudden. Sorry ;_; I hope this doesn't bother anybody?<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	259. Stalemate

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #259: Stalemate (arisen from general stupidity)<p>

* * *

><p>"Huh...? Are you serious?"<p>

"Of course I am. I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't._ Ha_."

Battler smirked proudly, folding his arms; glaring at Beato across the circular table with a familiar arrogance in his face. When he pulled himself together for two seconds and tried to wear a determined expression suitable for the Ushiromiya family, Battler reminded her uncannily of a certain hapless magician, who whiled away his life toiling in that hot, acrid smelling study just for two seconds of seeing her smile once more... ...

Urgh. No more. No more of those comparisons.

It was putting Beatrice off the tea and cookies Ronove had so thoughtfully prepared.

Tch... damn it...

Beatrice... hated that smile of Battler's- she hated it; and she wanted to claw it off his face with her fingernails so blood ran down his chin and his eyeballs were punctured, pierced, burst open. She didn't want to see that smile. A useless man like that was much better crying, grovelling, clutching at her skirts as he had done in the last game on his hands and knees and had he forgotten that humiliation? Had he forgotten how powerful she was?

That smile, that smile, that... smile... ... a-aah...

"So," said Battler, still with that infuriating look on his face, "what is the great Lady Beatrice's response? How are you going to counter a move like mine? Ihihi..."

He laughed carelessly; leaning back on his chair as a king surveying his court. Somehow, the situation had completely been turned around. Instead of Beatrice being in control, this brat was... he was... ... and he was clearly enjoying himself, too; with that cocky grin, that way of speaking- that look of vague interest in his eyes as though he was saying, _you should be glad I'm even paying this much attention to you..._

W-who the hell did he think he was anyway?

"I'll admit," he continued, "my last move really wasn't very fair. It was stupid, even. Ridiculous. In a normal mystery novel, a theory like that wouldn't be allowed at all- it's so pathetic it makes me want to throw up! But... ihihi... ... since your 'game' makes me want to throw up too, I thought I could fight a little dirty as well. Sorry. I guess I'm still a little sore from the second game, ihihi~"

Beatrice's fingers tightened round the armrests of her seat until her knuckles turned as white as her surroundings. Her eyes narrowed. Her whole face contorted with rage.

"Y-you... y-you... ... kuuu... B-but, to turn this whole story... i-into some stupid action story, s-so easily... ... t-that wasn't even presenting a theory- that was... creating a fairy story! T-that would put that fool Krauss and the others on the level of Bruce Lee!"

"Pfft~" Battler snorted and rolled his eyes. There was a mean kind of amusement on his face; the kind little kids wore when they were bullying each other in the playground, and- damn, he really was still riled up about the last game, huh? "Yeah, well. I presented a theory that completely discredits magic. So it's fine, even if it is obviously ridiculous, right?"

"B-but, you... you... W-what you've done is no better than saying 'a witch did it'!"

"That claim is stupid as well- but that's _your_ claim. In this nonsensical argument, I might as well take a nonsensical stance. Ihihihi~" Once more, laughter. Careless laughter. "So, what's the problem? I'm just doing what you're doing."

"You're really _not_."

Beatrice glowered. By this point, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to smack him, or maybe... ... just curl up in her bed and cry.

"You're not even trying anymore... you're not trying... ... you might as well have just accepted a witch with a... stupid, stupid argument like that! H-how can we even have a game if you're not taking it seriously?"

"I don't know," said Battler, smirking. "How about we just don't play anymore?"

Beatrice's eyes widened. They were really were very blue, Battler couldn't help but note.

"C-che, but... but you... you... ... a-alright. Fine!" Beatrice suddenly exploded; slamming the palm of her hand so hard down on her armrest it stung (not that she let that show on her face). "I'm not playing with you anymore when you're being so obstinate! If you want a stalemate, then that's fine too! I'm bored now! I don't want to play with an idiot! Go away!"

Sensing that his less than tactful actions earlier had upset her, the grin fell from Battler's face somewhat. He reached out, perhaps trying to take her arm, pat her head, something, anything, and said haltingly, "H-hey, u-um... Beato-"

But it was too late.

"I said, go away! I don't want hear your bullshit anymore, it's giving me a headache! Aaaaaah, I hate you, I really do hate you!"

And with that, the Golden Witch disappeared from the tea room in Purgatorio; golden hair, elaborate dress, teary eyes and all.

* * *

><p>"U-uwaah... ... h-haa... T-teacher... ...!"<p>

Virgilia looked down at the little bundle of Beatrice in her arms with faint bemusement, her arms wrapped round her sobbing pupil comfortingly. The blonde girl was wailing less like a witch and more like a banshee, as tears dribbled down her flushed cheeks, sticking to the ends of her long lashes and turning them spiky. She was trembling just like a baby bird.

Even after all this time, it seemed that Beatrice was still an immature young girl. That... was faintly amusing, really... even if Virgilia did feel bad for the poor child, who took things so seriously.

No matter how many people she killed, endlessly, on that game board... she still had this sensitive side, too.

"T-teacher... h-he... he..." Sniff, sniff. "He wasn't even trying to solve my mystery! H-he... he... ... h-he was just saying... ... a-a load of nonsense and he... he... h-he wasn't even trying! I-it's... m-my heart... I-I put a lot of effort into creating that game, and, and... a-and... he's just mocking it! I hate him! I-I... I... hate him... ...!"

Virgilia held the young girl a little tighter at this, resting her head atop of Beatrice's in a soothing way.

"There, there, you silly child. Don't cry," the finite witch said quietly. "Battler can be a bit insensitive, but I'm sure he didn't truly mean it. Children who like one another are often the worst at expressing it, after all."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile…<p>

Battler stared at the empty space Beatrice had once preoccupied with slumped shoulders, a slightly complicated smile on his face. Then, he sighed... and ran a hand through his already disordered hair.

To the empty room, he muttered to himself, "Um... ... April Fool's?"

It wasn't like he had expected Beatrice to get so upset about it...

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Late April Fool's story because I myself am a joke, ahaha XD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	260. Cactus girl

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #260: Cactus girl<p>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

"Keeping you company. Isn't it obvious? Kukuku- I thought you were smarter than that, Ange~"

"My intelligence is of a fairly reasonable level," Ange answered stiffly, with a small frown (as per usual) decorating her stern little face. "At least I don't wear a ridiculous outfit like you do."

At this deadpan retort, Mammon rolled her eyes and snorted. It wasn't a very inelegant, unattractive sound- but, then again, Mammon wasn't the most elegant, attractive of ladies. She wasn't like one of those demonic noblewomen; she was only demonic furniture, and a young girl, at that. She cared about having fun far more than appearances. People who bothered with their looks and fussed over how others viewed them were boring, boring, so boring- it could make the Stake of Greed cry with laughter.

Too bad humans were bound by the opinions of others far more than demons ever were.

Poor Ange.

Sometimes, Mammon wanted to give that girl a hug.

Then again... Ange wasn't the most touchy-feely of people, and Mammon got the distinct feeling if she tried to pull the young girl into a warm embrace, she'd only get hit round the back of her head for her efforts.

Ange was so prickly- just like a cactus. It was a wonder sleeping next to her like this wasn't filling Mammon's skin with needles. Truly, that was a mystery…

"Pfft. It's not like I have a choice over what I wear," Mammon retorted. "My normal outfit is my uniform. It's very prestigious amongst demons to dress like that. The more scantily clad you are, the more powerful you are! Kukuku!~"

Mammon couldn't see in the dark of Ange's dormitory, with the curtains closed and the lights turned off, but she knew Ange had raised a brow. She just _knew._

"Hm. That's a ridiculous method of measuring power. In an outfit like yours', you'll just catch a cold."

"Aaaw, how cute~" Giggle, giggle. "Are you worried about my wellbeing, Ange?"

"I just don't want you sneezing all over me, that's all. Germs are unpleasant."

"Haa~ Prickly- you really are prickly! Cactus girl!~" said Mammon cheerfully.

Unlike Ange, who had to keep her voice down for fear of waking the other girl in her dormitory, Mammon had no such worries. She could shout as loud as she wanted and nobody would hear. Humans were so foolish- unable to see the simplest of things even if they were right in front of their faces.

"Keep your voice down. I'm getting a headache."

...Hn. Well, the only other person who could hear Mammon was Ange- and apparently, she wasn't in the mood to listen right now.

How boring.

Mammon pulled a face.

Maybe the bullying had been a little worse today than usual... hence Ange's cold attitude. That awkward girl was usually a lot nicer to Mammon than this… or at least, as nice as a girl like Ange could be to anyone, given she seemed to have lost the ability to be happy somewhere in life; shunted from miserable event to miserable event like an unwanted parcel.

Although Mammon understood why Ange didn't really want to engage in pointless banter today, it still kind of stung.

"...Ange is so mean," said Mammon quietly; pouting. "I'm just trying to joke around and make you feel better. Aah... because my regular outfit bothers you so much, I even got changed into something a little cuter and more demure, you see?"

"I can't see. My eyes are closed."

"Open them?" Mammon suggested sweetly. "My pajamas really are sweet. You'll die of adorable when you see them."

Ange's reply was monotone, distinctly unimpressed. "No. I'm tired. I want to go to sleep."

"Oh... well, if that's what you want to do... Humph. That's kind of boring- but… aah, fine. I can try and be quiet and go to sleep, too. Maybe sleeping with the cute prickly cactus girl won't be so bad. It might even be fun!~ Ufufufu~"

Mammon giggled softly and nuzzled her head against Ange's front; wrapping her arms round her friend's middle.

Ange sighed.

"And, again, we're back to this. What are you doing?"

"...Trying to get to sleep?"

"Not in my bed you're not. Get out."

"Don't want to."

"I want you to."

"You don't know what's best for you really. Humans do all sorts of weird things 'for the greater good' I'll never understand, like eating vegetables or cod liver oil." Mammon pulled a face. "Ange, you don't know what you really waaaant, kukuku~"

"I know enough that I don't want a certain selfish somebody stealing my blankets in the middle of the night."

"Haa? I would ne~ver do thaaat, kuku~ I wouldn't ever let Milady's precious toes get cold!" Mammon said, giggling; squeezing Ange's middle tighter and tighter. "I'm not leaving. I am the Stake of Greed and I'm selfish. I want you aaaall to myself. Even when you're asleep. I'm not sharing you with anybody~ And, what?" Mammon grinned devilishly- though of course, Ange couldn't see that, given Mammon's head was more or less buried in her front. "Did you really think great demonic furniture such as myself would sleep on the floor? You do wound me. Cactus girl. Meanie."

There was a small silence- before Ange finally retorted, exasperated, "... ...Idiot."

"That's right, insult me. I know, deep down, you're happy really."

Mammon smiled- another expression lost on Ange; but the sentiment was still audible in her words. Curled up together under Ange's thin blankets in her cold, draughty dormitory, with the soft sound of the girl in the opposite bed snoring... there was something slightly peaceful about it. Tranquil. Even though Ange was still at St. Lucia's, withering away in this horrible place, bullied and teased and tormented relentlessly, moments like this could still exist.

There were fragments of happiness everywhere, after all. Even for a cactus girl.

As long as Mammon was Ange's friend... she would never let Ange be sad.

She wouldn't.

Mammon was the Stake of Greed, after all... and she wanted all of Ange's happy smils for herself.

"You're happy... You have to be. Because I really care about you, see?" Mammon continued; still smiling softly. "I care about you. And I want you to feel better. And, hey... I'm selfish, right? So I'm not letting you go.

"Not ever."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **A bit of Ange and Mammon interaction for _Emme_. I hope you like it ^^;;  
>As said, I will still take requests- but only things like characterspairings/word prompts/short ideas, etc, etc. I'm sorry, but I have been pretty busy lately, so wouldn't have enough time to write anything more than that. Sorry ;-;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	261. Catharsis

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #261: Catharsis<p>

* * *

><p>"Huntington! It's <em>Huntington<em>!"

_"Mm, well... I don't know, ahaha... Well, it starts with 'H', obviously, but... Sorry, I'm not good at remembering names! Ahaha!"_

"What do you mean, you cretin? That's no excuse! How can you not know the name of the head of the SSVD, Willard Huntington Wright! You live in Heaven, don't you? It's not a trick question- you should know what the 'H' stands for!"

_"Ah, let's see... let me think... ... Well, the SSVD are pretty old-fashioned-"_

"Yes, because if a system isn't broken you shouldn't try fix it. Moron."

_"-so I think the Willard's middle name would probably be pretty old-fashioned. An old-fashioned name that starts with 'H'... let's see, let's see..."_

"How did you even graduate from school anyway? You're so stupid maybe they just took pity on you?"

_"Ah...! I know! I think that maybe, just maybe... Willard's middle name is 'Harold'?"_

"Harold? What the hell? You can't be serious, are you?"

_"Is that your final answer?"_

_"It is my final answer, yes. I'm confident about this one!"_

"Geez, you really ARE serious? What is going on in that peanut-sized head of yours'? I bet if somebody cracked open your skull there'd just be a lot of air in there instead of a brain!"

_"Ahaha... Well, confidence is a nice thing to have- but sometimes too much of it can be your downfall... And, I'm very, very sorry to tell you this- but 'Harold' is not the correct answer. The correct answer is-"_

"Huntington!" Cornelia chorused, perfectly in time with the presenter of the cheap quiz show.

Pft.

And now the idiot on TV had the nerve to look surprised, as though there might have been the slightest chance they were right? Some people didn't deserve to breathe air, did they?

Rolling her eyes, Cornelia scoffed and shoved another spoon of ice-cream into her mouth (a very tricky thing to do simultaneously).

Why did she watch so many of those stupid quiz shows, anyway? The contestants were all bumbling idiots, and their stunning lack of knowledge on basic subjects all residents of Heaven should have known boiled her blood. Cornelia wasn't the smartest girl, who had also struggled with memorizing dates and names in school, but at least she knew this much. How could you not know Willard's middle name was 'Huntington', anyway?

How stupid. Ridiculous. Annoying. If Cornelia had been eating popcorn, she would've thrown it at the screen. She was getting so annoyed it seemed stupid even trying to subject herself to more of this drivel. She was just working herself up into an even worse temper.

And yet, despite this... ... Cornelia still didn't try to change the channel.

Curled up on the couch under her duvet, which she'd dragged from her bed upstairs, dressed in her flannel pajamas and a bowl of ice-cream in hand, the young girl continued to stare at the TV- sighing as, to her expectations, the next contestant proved to be a huge idiot as well.

"Come on, this is an easy question, too! It happened in 1983! That famous witch's game board took place in 1983!"

Cornelia'd had a rather bad day at work. She couldn't lose her temper whilst in the office because that would be unprofessional. However, when she was at home, she could do whatever she wanted- and if she wanted to shout at the TV to let off steam, then that was exactly what she would do.

It comforted her.

Just a little.

Yelling at people who couldn't hear her, but were even stupider than she was, was strangely cathartic. It at least comforted her that she wasn't the most useless person in existence.

"What? You got that wrong _TOO_? How are you even alive? How have you even managed to feed and clothe yourself with a pathetic level of intellect like that? And people say I'm bad at things... And least I'm not this idiotic! Geez!"

Even though these shows also made her feel like bashing her head against a wall.


	262. Masks

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #262: Masks

* * *

><p>"Tch. I can't believe you'd do something like this. That's rude even for <em>you<em>, Aguauau."

Featherine Augustus Aurora didn't reply.

She couldn't.

After all, she was fast asleep.

Her charcoal black lashes were pressed together, ethereally dark against the pale skin of her face, like raven's feathers resting on the snow. Her lips were pursed slightly, a strangely vibrant red- almost as if she a princess awaiting true love's kiss to arouse her from her slumber. Her long black hair fanned out around her sleeping form and tumbled over the top of her red, crushed satin bed sheets in waves. The satin pooled about her sleeping form, revealing more eerily white, snowy skin, hidden from prying eyes by a black nightdress. Contrary to her soft, serene, elegant appearance, Featherine's apparel was torn in a few places; the lace was slowly being unravelled round the straps of her dress as though a cat had been clawing at it. What little of Featherine's dress Lambdadelta could see was stained, too.

So were the bed sheets, on closer inspection.

Her whole bedroom was a mess, really- just like the rest of her humble home. As was the case in the rest of the house, the shelves round the walls were groaning with old books in various languages- and when there was no longer any space on the shelves, these books had migrated to the floor, stacked up in tall, precarious, dusty towers and turrets. The floor was strewn with old clothes, many of which had been chewed at or clawed by cats, mice- or maybe rats. It was impossible to be comfortable in that room, for if one listened closely they could hear the sounds of faint scurrying, or scratching- and maybe, if they strained their eyes, catch a glimpse of a tail or small, black, beady eyes. The mirror on the wall was broken, and shards of glass glittered dangerously from amidst the sea of filth on the ground. The red wallpaper was so aged and worn the flower design had worn off, and now looked very unappealing indeed It was peeling off the walls, revealing the plaster behind; hanging in great strips. It was impossible to see the carpet. The faint scent of dust, mold and various animal excrement hovered through the air.

The fairytale castle had been reduced to ruins... but the princess sleeping on the bed was beautiful and youthful as ever. It was the tattered, torn state of Featherine's clothes, and the horrifying state of her bedroom, that betrayed her age.

Though she was immortal- or at least, the closest thing to being immortal a witch could ever get- everything else she owned was slowly being eaten up by time.

Featherine had never been the most attentive of people, so it was only natural her bedroom would be like this.

Lambdadelta still didn't like it, though.

Wrinkling up her nose at the foul smell, the Witch of Certainty held up her long skirts to prevent them trailing across the floor, and daintily picked her way across the floor- taking great care not to step on any hidden shards of mirror.

When Lambdadelta caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, it was horribly distorted in the spider web of broken glass. The mirror revealed twenty Lady Lambdadeltas with disgusted looks on their faces; eyes narrowed, snub noses upturned, scowling. It was a far cry from the wide smiles she was renowned for.

Then again, what Lambdadelta was renowned for wasn't necessarily the entirety of her personality.

With a small sigh, the Witch of Certainty hesitantly wiped Featherine's bed sheets with her gloved fingers. Satisfied the small spot she'd picked was (relatively) free from any dirt or grime, she then very carefully, and very daintily, perched herself on the side of Featherine's bed.

"Yeah... I'm really disappointed," Lambdadelta murmured, as she turned to look at Featherine's sleeping form. "You invite me to a tea party, and then you're too lazy to even get out of bed- much less greet your guest? That's far too rude. You should be thankful I even came at all; I wasn't going to. I'm only here because I'm bored."

Featherine didn't reply.

Of course she didn't- that was only to be expected.

As mentioned before, she was asleep.

Her chest rose and fell softly with each inhale and exhale. Her eyelashes trembled slightly. On occasions, small sounds escaped her lips, but they were hardly audible, and completely unintelligible. Just noise.

Featherine had never looked so defenceless before.

Lambdadelta knew it was a ruse, of course. Featherine was an intelligent woman, not to mention quite paranoid- as she had a right to be, being so incredibly hated. Lambdadelta was sure there was some kind of enchantment set about this bedroom which would make any potential attacker very, very sorry indeed they'd been so cowardly to harm a sleeping woman. Lambda's natural curiosity made her kind of interested in knowing what nasty enchantment Featherine had set up exactly- but she didn't really want to try it. She liked all her limbs where they were. Throwing a candy projectile at the sleeping witch would be amusing, yes, but it wouldn't be worth the pain that would surely follow.

Lambda could just see it now. Her body would be torn apart into pieces and strewn across the room, leaving only a cute pink shoe or hair ribbon behind... the loud noise would awake Sleeping Beauty, and she would yawn, and stretch, and sigh, and rub her eyes...and then she would see the little pink shoe on the floor, maybe with a piece of foot still inside, and she would giggle softly and say something like, 'oh, hello, Lady Lambdadelta. It's so nice to see you. Or, part of you. Heheh~'

Lambda rolled her eyes.

Tch, no way.

She wasn't going to get into a situation like that, and become a crappy punchline in some un-funny joke. She wasn't stupid.

Even so... her fingers, clad in their black gloves, twitched slightly- enticed by the thought of just how easy it would be to slide them around Featherine's throat...

Her black gloves would probably make a nice contrast against Featherine's white skin.

Lambda turned her head away, eyes narrowed- a truly horrible expression rising to her face. It was an expression she never showed to anybody else.

"I really hate you, you know. Ha... hahaha~" Giggle, giggle. "No, that's not quite right! I _despise _you."

Lambdadelta's voice was tinged with a insane kind of intensity that could make the blood run cold. With her head bent, eyes steeped in shadows, and that wide smile cutting across her face, she didn't even look like a human anymore.

"Haha... isn't that funny?" Lambda continued to laugh softly to herself; shoulders shaking. "You _ruin _people for your own entertainment. You threw Bern into the endless hell of a logic error for... for _fun_, but you've never experienced something like that yourself, you've never... Y-you're a monster. And yet, when you're asleep, you look... just like a princess. And I'm the one who looks like the monster. Ahahahaha... how does that work, huh? How does that work?

"And yet... hm. Sometimes, just sometimes... I think I might pity you."

Lambdadelta's eyes clouded over slightly, the small spark from before vanishing. She was no longer smiling that eerie, impossibly wide smile. Instead... she looked pensive. Almost melancholic.

Another expression she'd never show to anybody.

She was the happy, cute and pop witch who never took anything seriously and always got on everybody's nerves. That was how she acted, that was how she liked to act. It was more fun that way. Being serious was boring. Lambdadelta didn't want to be boring. She liked enjoying herself. She liked being liked by others.

But, deep down inside... there was something hideous like this in her after all, wasn't there? Like biting down on a crisp, sweet apple... and finding a worm inside.

That was what happened to people who got thrown in logic errors.

They could try to be happy… but in the end, they couldn't forget. And sometimes a darker side of their personality emerged.

"Yeah. I really do... pity you," Lambda said softly. "You've been alive for so long you don't even know who are you anymore, do you? You... can't remember how to feel emotions at all. So, if you can't feel anything, no pain or sadness or joy... then how do you justify your own existence? How do can you call yourself a 'person'?

"This is what I think you do.

"I think... maybe you were a nice person once. Maybe. Since I like to believe in being optimistic, ehehe~ But you lived too long... and that poison called boredom started to eat into you. It's the curse that comes with living forever, isn't it? And, in an attempt to escape from boredom... you became crueller. You broke down the people who called themselves your 'friends' all for your own entertainment- to keep yourself from being too bored.

"But you broke your own heart as well, didn't you? You... destroyed your own humanity with your hands. And you can't feel anything for anyone anymore. You desensitized yourself to humanity entirely, and became... this monster. This creature who'll throw people into logic errors and make them crawl through hell, tearing out the guts of tender love stories and showing people no respect- that's what you are. You don't deserve to be called a 'person' for all the things you've done. You don't have a heart. You don't have any feelings. All you can do is try and run away from that boredom that's slowly killing you... but you know it's going to catch up eventually, don't you?

"Because you approached this all wrong, right from the start."

Lambdadelta knew she had been speaking loudly, a little too loudly. Her tone of voice had set off a frantic scurrying and squeaking- doubtless from the rats behind the wardrobe, who had probably not heard a voice other than Featherine's in centuries. But, it didn't matter.

Featherine still didn't wake up.

She continued to lie there, in her bed of red, crushed satin... her eyes closed, chest rising, and falling.

She... didn't look so imposing without her long dress, or her medal secured to her chest- a reminder of her status as a great witch, though she had forgotten how she obtained it.

She looked like an ordinary human.

And that filled Lambdadelta, not with hatred... but with pity.

When she saw Featherine sleeping like that, she couldn't believe she had always been this way.

"You don't defeat boredom by hurting others. That's wrong. It's all wrong. Maybe it works at the start... but in the end, you'll be lonely. You'll get so lonely. You defeat boredom by forcing yourself to smile... and being kind to people...

"And hoping they'll be kind in return.

"That way, you don't need to be alone.

"And... who cares if, sometimes, your smiles are fake? People lie all the time so people will like them. It's normal. And maybe friendship is only a delusion in the end. Maybe people really are meant to be alone- because that way, you can't get hurt. Maybe you're right and I'm wrong. But... I don't believe that. I can't believe that. Even if it's a delusion... it's a pleasant one. And I don't want to wake up from it any time soon.

"But you... you're different, aren't you? Because you have no friends. If you did have any once, you don't anymore. Everybody hates you. _I _hate you. I really do. But...

"I think, deep down... you're a really sad person. Yeah.

"I feel sorry for you."

Lambdadelta sighed, looking at the sleeping form of Featherine with downcast eyes. How could somebody who looked so innocent... be so cruel?

"I feel sorry for you... but it's pointless. It's really pointless. After all… You're completely beyond saving. I don't even know why I visit you so much… I really don't.

Maybe it's because I'm the only one who will."


	263. Scarf

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun**  
>Short #263: Scarf<p>

* * *

><p>"Aren't you going to try it on?"<p>

"Hihi… Yee~es, of course?" Tohya replied cautiously. He was trying to sound bold- that much was evident by the slight sing-song lilt to his voice; but the slight upwards inflection at the end clearly implied he was confused.

He was confused, but he was trying very, very hard not to appear so.

After so many years of living with a complicated, tricky woman like Ikuko, he knew not to openly show confusion in front of her, or she'd just start to poke fun at him. Ikuko was never mean when she teased him, she was just trying to enjoy herself. However, she just so happened to be a woman who gleaned some kind of sadistic enjoyment from fooling others. Tohya still didn't know how old she was, exactly. She danced around the subject whenever he tentatively brought it up, and now he was truly beginning to believe she was the all-powerful, ever-beautiful witch she claimed to be.

Tohya liked Ikuko, though. Beyond her slightly twisted personality beat a very kind, very warm heart; he was sure of that. Maybe he was just being optimistic (he had to try and be optimistic about some things, or he'd grow so entrenched in his own misery he'd never be able to climb back out of his frequent depressed slumps), but he thought Ikuko truly was a good person. After all, he had known Ikuko for roughly six years. He hoped that he wasn't so incompetent he couldn't figure out whether a person was trustworthy or not over such a long period of time.

Still… Tohya did know many small details about Ikuko, even though he didn't know what her age was. She hated TV dramas but watched them anyway to pick holes in them; when she had writers' block she tried to comfort herself by eating lots of sweet food; and she hated using computers to type up her tales owing to a rather tragic memory when she lost one of her half-finished tales in a power cut.

But he hadn't known about this.

He'd had no idea.

Tohya took the emerald green scarf from Ikuko's hands and surveyed it. He handled it carefully, turning it over in his hands, as though it was a marrow and he was trying to guess its weight in some inane competition at a fair. All the while, his eyes flitted over the length of the knobbly, woollen, hand-knitted gift, filled with evident surprise. Maybe there was a little flattery thrown in his expression, as well.

"Hihihi… This is pretty interesting, though… Ikuko, I didn't know you liked to knit?"

"I don't. I've only been working on it recently, every night before I went to sleep for the past few weeks. Hehe~" Ikuko laughed, holding one hand to her cheek; smiling. "I must have looked like such an old woman- sat in my bed with my cat on my lap, wearing my glasses because I can't see very well at night anymore, actually _knitting_… Ahahaha~ My pretence of being an ageless witch might be coming to an end, I fear."

"Heh. No, it's fine. I think the idea of you knitting in bed with a cat on your lap is really quite sweet? Hihihi~"

"Why, thank you, Tohya!~ Aaah, you do flatter me… But, I've been thinking. I feel I should get a new hobby other than writing."

Tohya's eyes widened slightly in shock. "But you _love _writing. Why would you want to stop?"

"Mm, well… It's not that I want to stop… But I'm slightly worried, if I place all my eggs in one basket, I'll become even more foul-tempered, selfish and unmanageable than usual whenever I get stuck writing my stories. As I have so few hobbies, when I can't continue my favorite past time properly, I get quite foul tempered, ahaha…~ So I thought I should find a nice new hobby to distract me, so if I get writer's block I can soothe my nerves by doing something else relaxing, yet productive. And then I thought of knitting~" Ikuko laughed once more; a light, airy laugh that always made Tohya smile.

"Ah, I see. I understand. Knitting is probably a better coping method than eating lots of sugar. This way, you won't put on weeeight~"

"Implying my figure is anything less than perfect?"

"I said nothing," said Tohya, grinning, shaking his head. "I think you're very attractive for an old witch."

"Hm~ It must be all that exercise from riding my broomstick, then. I can work through all kinds of cakes without putting on any weight, ahaha~ But, come, Tohya. What do you think of your gift?"

Tohya turned the scarf over again a couple more times, his fingers running over the soft material; finding little bumps and imperfect lumps here and there, sewn by Ikuko's inexpert fingers. It was the first scarf she had made, after all. Tohya couldn't really judge, given he'd never tried knitting before- but despite the minor flaws even he could tell it was very, very good for a first attempt.

That was Ikuko all over. She was such a perfectionist. She would never dream of giving Tohya an unpolished gift- just as she would never dream of letting him read her short mystery stories before she had edited them herself for grammatical errors. She had too much pride for that.

Tohya was sure Ikuko had worked hard on this scarf.

Of that much, he was positive.

"I-I think… hm… I think I'm very flattered…" he said slowly- a small, slightly silly smile of appreciation lightly brushing his lips.

Smiling like this was always a comfort- it reassured him that, even though his life was rather maudlin, there was still cause to be happy from time to time. Tohya always tried to remain cheerful; bobbing along on a sea of hazy, half-formed and rather painful memories, with a head full of holes- but sometimes, all too easily, his optimism could be sunk. When he was depressed, it was difficult even remembering how to form a smile, let alone forcing his facial muscles to create one.

That was why he was so thankful for small moments like this one, when he could talk to Ikuko like an old friend… and she would force him to remember how to smile.

Maybe that was why she teased him so much.

She just wanted him to feel better.

"It's no problem," said Ikuko lightly, sensing Tohya's rather sentimental mood. "If I was knitting only for myself I wouldn't have enough inspiration. Knitting isn't like writing; I don't enjoy it quite as much, so I needed to affix a goal to myself or I'd never finish. So, I decided I should make it as a gift to somebody… and I ran through a quick mental itinerary of all the friends I happen to have, and- what do you know?~" A soft laugh. "You were the only person on the list. So, of course, the scarf had to be a gift for my very kind and caring lodger, who always puts up with my foul moods, ahaha~ Look." Ikuko gently pressed the tip of her finger against the scarf; drawing Tohya's eyes to it once more. "I even made the scarf from the exact same green associated with that villain character from those fantasy books you like so much; Hari-Pota, right?~"

"A-ah, um… Y-you're right! I-it's the exact same green that Drako wears. Ahaha, I didn't know you knew I liked those books…? O-or that I liked arrogant villain characters so much?"

"Well, it wasn't a hard leap to make, given I've seen you reading them, with that very sweet smile on your face. And, after you made comments about the culprits always being your favorite characters in my mystery tales, as they were so interesting… Hehe~ Well, it was just a guess, I suppose it worked out quite well."

"Y-yeah… It was a pretty good guess. Ahaha… T-that's… That's so thoughtful…"

"Well, well. Don't just sit there blushing. That scarf isn't any good on your lap. Why don't you try it on?"

"A-ah, yes… Yes, I will. Of course I will. Ihihi… Um…"

And, as he draped the scarf around his neck (the green really did suit him, mused Ikuko), a light pink flush rose to his cheeks.

Tohya's smile had never looked so bright.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **So, two contrasting oneshots (sort of), the former with Featherine and the latter with Ikuko ^^''  
>I guess the former kind of sort of fills the request by <em>Alric Severin<em> for some Featherine and Lambda interaction- even though Featherine was asleep for all of it XD I apologize ;-;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	264. Let them eat cake

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #264: Let them eat cake

* * *

><p>She'd never really had a father figure.<p>

For as long as she could remember, the man she had to call her 'father' had been distant as a stranger. It was almost as if he led a life completely separate from his own family, and he saw his own children as minor nuisances that occasionally got in his way. When he did deign to talk to his children, it was always to reprimand them; Krauss' grades were too low; she was too masculine; Rudolf had no ambition; Rosa was a useless little child who wouldn't grow up quickly enough (if he remembered Rosa at all, which he rarely did).

He was never kind or loving or friendly, or even polite and courteous. He certainly wasn't like the typical father figures she read about in books who loved their children dearly. Fathers like that seemed almost as unbelievable to her as witches riding broomsticks through the sky; creations of fantasy, and nothing more.

When she was a child, she'd found it difficult to even think of her father as a human. She saw him so rarely, and he treated her so cruelly, that from an early age she'd always imaged him as some kind of hideous monster.

A fire-breathing dragon.

Yes... her father was a dragon.

A violent, short-tempered beast with no redeeming qualities.

_You're not acting like a woman!_

_Why are you trying to assume Krauss' role when your place in society has already been defined by your birth?_

_What have I done to raise such an unruly, disgraceful daughter? Why am I lumbered with such a burden?_

Her father was not a father.

Ushiromiya Eva... never had a father.

Eva's teenage years had been a constant effort; an uphill struggle- and though she toiled away, studying until the early hours of the morning and pushing herself relentlessly to get the best grades in her class, it hadn't been enough. No matter what she did, or how she excelled, her father never praised her once. Her father never stopped looking at her as a 'woman'.

Because she was female, her achievements meant nothing.

Because she was a female, she would never be able to fulfil her dreams.

Because she was a female, her father would never respect her.

Because her father would never respect her, she… had found it very difficult to love and respect him.

And now, she didn't need to.

Now, she was no longer 'Ushiromiya Eva'. She was a witch, the new witch, the _Golden Witch_. She was Eva-Beatrice, with her beautiful skirts and one winged eagle staff- and if she so desired, she could pick people up like insects and make them dance an unearthly rondo through the night sky; she could transfigure humans into the strangest of shapes at her every wish and whim; she could summon beautiful confectionary from the sky; crush her foes under platters of cookies and cakes; kill again and again and again and nobody would stop her, nobody would dare- because, _finally_, for the first time in her life, she had surpassed them!

She had surpassed them all!

Who was going to call her a weak woman now?

Who?

If they tried, she'd laugh in their face.

She didn't need her Father's permission or recognition to be powerful now.

It didn't matter that her father had never particularly liked her. She had never particularly liked him. She had never particularly liked any of her family.

She didn't need a family either.

She _didn't_.

They were useless, useless, pathetic, all useless- and she would destroy them all if they got in her way.

She was strong, and she was successful, and she was happy- and she wasn't sad, and she wasn't lonely, and she wasn't-

"Hm...? W-what are you doing?"

Eva-Beatrice blinked in confusion; suddenly pulled out of her musings by a soft pressure on her cheek. Somebody was wiping it with a white napkin.

"Please, do not mind me, Milady… pu ku ku…"

The one wiping her cheek was that demon butler; the one who used to be that old granny's furniture… second hand furniture. It was the demon with the annoying smile and the annoying laugh. Yeah, Eva-Beatrice hated him, she really hated that guy. Even if his cake and tea was, as he had proved mere seconds ago, completely delicious.

An ugly expression twisted the young witch's face.

"Why are you getting so close to me, you fool? Unless you have my permission, I don't even want you to touch me..." There was a small pause. Then, she spat, almost as an afterthought (and oh, it felt so good being able to say these things to an older man without fear of being reprimanded- or, worse, put in 'her place'), "...you useless furniture!"

Ronove laughed and bowed his head in apology; instantly drawing his hand away from Eva-Beatrice's cheek.

"Ah. Do forgive me, Milady. You had some cake crumbs stuck on your face- and I thought it would be prudent, as your butler, to remove them for you if you yourself had not noticed. You were deep in thought, and I did not wish to disturb you by talking out of turn. Pu ku ku~"

Eva-Beatrice scowled, wiping her own mouth free of crumbs. When she drew her arm away and inspected it, her black gloves were smeared with a small amount of frosting.

He was right.

It was so very, _very _annoying that he was right.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter!" she said sharply, folding her arms. "A great witch like myself should be able to eat cake however I want- I hardly need your opinion on the matter, useless fuuuurniture! I am your master, so you should show me some more respect next time!"

"Certainly. I apologize if my actions were out of line," Ronove apologized smoothly. "However, it appears old habits do die hard- so you will have to forgive me."

"Old habits? Whatever do you mean? Furniture doesn't have any habits; it's not alloooowed~ If my tables or chairs spoke to me rudely, or they touched me without my permission, or they didn't want to work properly on certain days of the week, then I would turn them into firewood! If you disobey me, you should just curl up and die, right? I don't even want old shabby furniture like you anyway; I'm only keeping you around as a favor to that old granny."

"If that is your opinion on the matter, then I will try to act in a manner according to your wishes, Milady. However..." Ronove smiled softly. "Your predecessor was a rather messy eater; especially in regards to sweet foods. I frequently had to clean that child's face, for she rarely noticed the crumbs she left behind herself. I am afraid my paternal instinct is slightly difficult to control- though, as you find it so displeasing, I will refrain from acting in such a manner in the future, pu ku ku~"

Eva-Beatrice opened her mouth, prepared to fire another biting retort back at this overly verbose fool about speaking out of turn. After all, how many times had she been snapped at by her father not to talk back, as she was only a girl? It felt nice, being in that same position over somebody else.

_Don't talk back to me, you're only fuuuurniture!~ Why don't you just curl up, roll over and die?_

But... a single word in that demon butler's speech made her stop.

It made her think.

It made her... reconsider.

…'Paternal', he had said.

Was instinctively caring for somebody like that, whether they wanted you to care or not... really a 'paternal' thing to do?

Was that... ... how fathers acted with their daughters?

Was it?

She... didn't know.

She had no idea.

She might have been a powerful witch, but even she had to admit (not that she wanted to) that were many things she did not understand.

After all, her father had never wiped her face when she was a child. He had never displayed concern over her wellbeing. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember him ever _smiling _at her before.

But... that demon butler had done all of things- without even being prompted.

W-was that... how fathers were?

And, as Eva-Beatrice turned this slightly alien concept over in her mind... ... the cheek where that demon butler had gently touched her began to feel very warm.


	265. Zero

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #265: Zero

* * *

><p>"I-it... i-it hurts..."<p>

"I know."

"Ahh... I-I'm really sorry... I-I'm sorry for being so useless... s-so I ended up like this..."

"It's fine."

"I-I've always been... a burden... A-and I'm sorry. I-I'm really-"

"Be quiet."

Chiester 00's voice was a stern, short command- and, given the situation she was using that tone, she must have sounded heartless. That was fine, though. Everybody thought she was heartless. Her 'heart' had been already been killed, at the same time her eye had been clawed out. Physical pain hurt, but it was fine. As long as you ignored it, it couldn't stop you. As long as your willpower never faded, a few cuts and bruises, horrific scars and a bleeding eye socket, couldn't halt anybody. She had crushed all her emotions- the happiness, and sadness, and fear, and anger- and become emotionless; just like a ceramic figure.

Well, that was kind of funny, wasn't it...?

Chiester 00 looked down at her fallen comrade, one remaining eye narrowed slightly. There was no sympathy in her face; no pity; no grief. It was a blank slate.

She was the leader of the Chiester Sisters Imperial Guard Corps. She couldn't feel emotion. She had seen her own people die before in battle; it was nothing new. She couldn't allow herself to be upset. If she sympathized with her troops, and started to act too soft, they would never learn proper discipline. They would never understand just how dangerous games between witches could be. So they would die. There would be more, far more, than this single casualty.

This was nothing.

She had to remain distant.

Professional.

She had to... for the sake of her troops. So she would make an example of this one little girl, who had fallen in battle- and not show her a shred of sympathy.

Sympathy wouldn't save her now.

And yet, even so... 00's mask faltered slightly- and she had to turn her head away, unable to keep looking.

Chiester 556 was a wreck.

The true nature of her 'existence' had been uncovered and revealed, so she could no longer bleed. She was not a living creature, so she was not permitted to. Her body had been broken apart, fissures running across her pale skin like spider webs. Her legs were no longer connected to her torso, for they had been shattered- broken as easily as porcelain. Three of the fingers on her right hand had broken off.

But there was no blood.

Ceramic rabbits didn't bleed.

Ushiromiya Rosa had dashed her vessel against her floor. Maria had seen the vessel break, and had lost the ability to manifest 556's physical body. So, little by little, 556's- energy, or perhaps her 'soul', if toys had such things was draining away. Her skin was becoming paler and paler; her eyes duller. Her body was paralyzed completely. She couldn't move.

She could only lie on the floor, smashed in bits and pieces with her own legs torn off and resting by her head... and wait.

She was waiting to die.

She was no longer allowed to exist in this world anymore. She had been denied both by the mother who bought her, and the child who created her. There was no leeway for her to still be alive. Every bit of her body, each cubic inch of her skin to the blood and bone in her body, were being denied- turned back into nothing more than a smashed ceramic bunny.

It must have been unbearably painful.

It was painful for 00, too.

She had to remain strong... ... b-but how could she continue to act emotionless when this sweet young girl was going to meet such a horrible end?

H-how could she... ...?

"I-I guess this was... inevitable..." said 556, her voice quiet- she was unable to talk too loudly, given the strain on her vocal chords. "Hehe... I-I'm only... ... a toy, after all. A-and when toys break... ... they're just junk. S-so, please don't worry... hehe..."

Chiester 00's fingers clenched tightly at her side.

"No..."

Her voice was quiet at first, controlled- but soon, she was unable to keep a lid on her own feelings... and they all came pouring out of her in a torrent.

She was _shouting_.

She was really shouting.

...People thought her heart had died. They thought she couldn't feel things.

But they were wrong.

She just forced herself to hide it.

"No. Don't talk like that! You're _not _junk. You're... not a toy! Don't deny _yourself _as well- enough people will do that for you!"

"E-eh...?" Tiredly, 556 cracked her eyelids open; blinking up at 00 in surprise. Already, the fissures scoring through her skin were getting bigger, deeper, so it was difficult to keep talking... but 00's words had given her just a little bit of energy to ask a single question. "W-what do you mean... ...?"

"Don't give up on your identity, 556! That's unforgivable! You're not a toy rabbit! You're a proud member of the Chiester Sisters Imperial Guard Corps, descended from the Great Courts of Heaven! You've provided support and assistance loyally, and with dedication, for hundreds of years! You've have the honor of working alongside Eiserne Jungfrau and the SSVD; you've been involved in some of the most complex game boards played between the strongest of witches; you've felled demons and detectives alike with your golden arrows! You were summoned by the great witch Lady Maria, and you heeded her summons because she had enough magical energy to contract you! You've been an excellent partner for 45, a friend for 410, a-and... and..."

Chiester 00 sniffed; wiping her red eyes with the back of her arm. It was too late, though.

She was already crying.

Weak. Pathetic. Miserable.

But she couldn't stop herself.

She couldn't… remain detached.

"Y-you've been... like a little sister to me... ... Y-you have. You've done... all those things," said 00. Her voice was softer this time. It sounded as though she had exerted all her energy. All that remained was this tired, broken bunny girl with red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks and an unsteady, wobbly gait. "Don't doubt yourself, 556. Don't doubt your own existence. You were felled in a fight with the Black Witch. You fought bravely until the end. You were... so admirable... and we were all proud of you. Your determination saved us. You sacrificed yourself for a noble cause. You died... a worthy death.

"You're not junk. You're not a toy or an illusion or an imaginary friend. You're a real member of the Chiester Sisters Imperial Guard Corps! _That_ is the truth! That is my truth- and, as your leader, I'm going to protect that for you!"

At 00's words, 556 gave a small gasp... and soon, her own red eyes began to shimmer with tears. She couldn't move her head, so the tears pooled in the corners of her eyes for a few moments- before they finally overflowed, and ran down her cheeks.

Her skin was breaking apart.

She was dying.

Being denied by anti-magic toxin from the outside in was a slow death that slowly, very slowly, ate away at the flesh- like a legion of bot flies, an infestation of maggots. It was a pain that stemmed from the insides, and slowly worked its way outwards- destroying every last inch of 'existence' and reducing it to zero, to dust, to ashes; no, to even less than that.

To nothing.

But 00's speech had affirmed 556's existence just enough to keep her heart softly thumping, and her lungs fill with air.

Weak though her existence was, like a guttering candle... she wasn't dead yet.

And, even though it hurt... a very, very small smile spread across her cracked lips.

"T-thank you... ... f-for believing in me... e-even when nobody else does... I-I had… a lot of fun… every day was a lot of fun… with you… and the others… … a-and Lady Maria, too… …

"Y-yeah. I-I enjoyed… every moment of it… T-thank y-you... ... b-big sister..."

Chiester 00 shook her head slowly.

"No. Thank you for all your hard work, 556. I believe, after everything you have done... you deserve a rest. Goodbye, 556... I'll see you in the Golden Land."

And with those words, 00- still with tears in her eyes- gave the brave soldier a final salute... and summoned her golden bow from the air. It felt cold in her hands.

556 was going to die.

It was inevitable.

But she could at least end her suffering quickly, in the most painless way possible.

As 556's leader... that was her duty.

It was her final 'thank you'.

Chiester 00 loaded her bow.

She drew back the string...

And fired.

She didn't miss. She couldn't miss. Not from that range.

So the end result was obvious.

Chiester 556 lay on the floor, tears still glimmering in her eyes, her mouth open in a silent thank you... with a golden arrow embedded right through her left eye.

After that, her chest stopped rising and falling. Her eyelids stopped fluttering. Her breath was certainly, surely... stopped completely.

Die.

Be erased.

Become zero.

Nothing can hurt you now.


	266. Defending her honor

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #266: Defending her honor

* * *

><p>"Haha! I see! It's simple really; laughably simple. I suppose you might even call it 'elementary', hahahaha~"<p>

"A-ah, um, you seem to be in high spirits, Miss Erika," said Shannon politely, smiling.

But Shannon wasn't smiling because she was happy.

Shannon, like the others, was rapidly beginning to find Furudo Erika- with her arrogant smiles and twisted personality- quite an unpleasant person indeed. It wasn't that Shannon disliked her; Shannon found it difficult to dislike anybody. She truly believed even the worst of people had at least one small redeeming feature about them that could glimmer far more brightly than their defects, if given the chance.

Rather, Shannon felt a little… afraid of this girl. If Erika did have any good points, they were hidden very, very well.

Those narrowed eyes, those challenging words, that smug grin; all of it gave Erika an almost inhuman appearance- as though she were some kind of fearsome, venomous snake.

"High spirits?" Erika chorused, voice sickly sweet and mocking. "_Yes_, I suppose I am. After all, I have just resolved a mystery~ I think the detective has a right to celebrate."

"What do you mean, 'detective'?" asked Battler, trying to grin; forcing himself to keep the mood light-hearted. "You talk like somebody's died, ahaha!"

But the words did not have the desired effect.

Instead… Erika smirked.

"Well. Not _yet_. But I have come to a rather fitting conclusion about another mystery."

Nobody wanted to prompt Erika anymore; not even the diplomatic George. They all realized what she had to say would surely be nothing pleasant. However, none of them could stop her. Erika really was conducting herself like a detective giving a great reveal at the end of a novel- and it would have been powerless to try and stop her.

"The witch of Rokkenjima- or the 'beloved witch Beatrice', as per the epitaph- is nothing more than an illusion. Of course, I knew that from the beginning… but this really is too sad!"

"No, not an illusion!" Maria piped up. "Beatrice ex-ists, uu! Ex-ists!"

"Oh, be quiet. Children should learn to wait their turn to talk. It's better to be seen and not heard. Now~ Shannon~"

"E-eh? Me…?"

Shannon blinked in confusion, hands clasped to her chest, as Erika rounded on her. All of a sudden, it felt like a spotlight had been placed on her; as though she were on a stage. Or maybe she was in a prison cell, being interrogated.

She shifted nervously, fingers clutching at the hem of her skirt.

"You say the servants believe in 'Beatrice' because of harmless pranks, such as the windows being opened every night?"

"Y-yes, well… W-when you're locking up at night, it can be quite scary, and, um…"

"I imagine it can. And it's even scarier when you turn around and realize the window you closed has opened itself up again, rii~iight?"

"U-um, y-yes… …?"

"Tch. Pathetic. Truly laughable." Erika smiled. "We have a word for that, Shannon, and it's not called 'witchcraft'. It's called 'clumsiness'. This is so obvious I don't even need to state it in red. You, Shannon, are a clumsy, useless servant, who constantly loses things, forgets to lock up windows, and leaves doors open!"

Shannon's face turned beet red from embarrassment. It felt like she was being scolded by Natsuhi- but this was far, far worse. Natsuhi was her employer, so Natsuhi had a right to punish Shannon for her mistakes- and she never did so in a gleeful, vindictive manner. Natshi was stern, but she was always fair, and never punished people for her own enjoyment.

Erika wasn't like that.

Erika was obviously deriving pleasure for making Shannon wince- and she found her humiliation entertaining. Erika… didn't even have a right to say those things. She was only a guest. It was exactly the same as being berated by a complete stranger.

Shannon's eyes widened in panic, like a deer in the headlights of a car.

W-was she really that useless…?

W-was it… … true…?

"Ahaha, that's priceless. Yeah, it's priceless," said Erika. "You screw up and make mistakes, and then you try to blame them on a witch. Ahahaha! Well, I'm not surprised. That's how most imaginary friends are born, aren't they?~ They're scapegoats for little kids, right? But aren't you a little too old for that, Shannoooon? And what about the other servants? Are they all too pathetic to own up to their own mistakes as well? That's what Beatrice is on this island; little more than a mass delusion, worth less than an imaginary friend! Simply by the nature of the stories surrounding Beatrice, that level of reasoning is possible for Furudo Erika! Well then…" Erika turned and smiled, as though addressing an invisible audience. "What do you think, everyone?"

Jessica's expression turned sour. "What the hell are you talking about? Leave Shannon alone! You've only just met us- what the hell do you know?"

"Uuu! Beatrice ex~ists, ex~ists!" Maria shouted. "She's not a delusion, not imaginary! Beato steps out of portrait and plays pranks on people at night, she does, she does! Maria knows! Beato told Maria! Uu, uu!"

"That's right, Maria," said George, hastening to comfort her. "I've heard stories like that, as well; I'm sure there must be something that causes this strange phenomenon."

"Yeah, there is a cause. I just explained it." Giggle, giggle. "Shannon is a pathetic waste of space who can't do a simple job properly, that's all."

"Hey! Talking that way about Shannon is too much!" said Battler sharply, his eyes narrowing; filled with anger. "She always tries her best with a small smile; she's that kind of person! Don't belittle her efforts, especially when you don't even know her! It's pissing me off!"

"Yeah! That's right! D-don't talk about my friend that way, damn it! Shut the hell up or, or… o-or I'll punch you in your ugly, smug face, damn it!"

Erika surveyed Jessica with a cruel, arrogant smile, like one who was staring down at a squished bug on the side walk. "Hoh? And now you resort to violence in the face of reason? How vulgar."

"_Vulgar?_ You're the one who's-"

"Jessica, please calm down," said George, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Shouting won't make anything better."

"Ihihi… E-ever the adult, huh?" said Battler lightly. "B-but, George… I-I thought you liked Shannon? How can you stand hearing this… this… this _person _saying such unforgivable things?"

"Yeah, I don't get it!" Jessica intoned. "I thought you were meant to be her boyfriend, George; why don't you try and defend her!"

"Yes, try and defend her," said Erika coolly. "This should be an amusing way to pass a few moments. Ahaha~"

"Hm, well… a man doesn't like to be rude to a lady… But. Jessica, Battler. You're right. This has gone too far for me to allow. I am sorry, Erika- but I won't permit this any longer."

George pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose- and then stared resolutely at Erika, eyes filled with determination.

"Miss Erika. I appreciate that you're only a guest here, so perhaps you're a little over-excited- and the manner you came to the island is rather strange. Surely you must be exhausted from your ordeal, so maybe you're not acting as you usually do. I think the stories about the witch of Rokkenjima may have prompted this outburst somewhat, which is our own fault for elaborating on. However… you must remember your manners. And you can't insult Shannon. I refuse to allow it. Please, apologize."

"Hmm?~ Apologize for what?" asked Erika coldly. "For telling the truth? I-I'm not a child; don't talk down to me like that! I'm the detective!"

"I never claimed you were a child. However, openly mocking Shannon in front of me is unforgivable and unpleasant, and I do not want to see any more of this kind of behavior. I doubt your parents would want to see you acting in a manner."

"W-what do you know, you stupid piece? I'm the detective, I-"

"I think maybe you need to have a rest. You're acting in a very strange manner. Perhaps you sustained some kind of injury to your head when you were washed up on Rokkenjima, and that is why you are acting in such a manner?"

"M-my… my head is perfectly fine!"

"Oh." George's eyes narrowed. "Ha. That is pity. I might have excused you if that was the case- but, apparently not. It really _is _your personality at fault after all."

Erika's expression twisted up in about five different directions. She looked unsure whether she should smirk or scowl- and, in the end, she seemed to settle on something between the two.

"I-I don't have to stand here and listen to this!" she spat, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "_I'm_ the detective, and you're all stupid, useless pawns! When the first twilight comes, you'll all be sorry then! Ha! _Good, good_! Truly _good_! Well, you can all die, and I won't feel indebted to try and save you!"

And with that, Furudo Erika, the self-proclaimed detective, stormed off in a flurry of lacy skirts and blue twin tails. But she wasn't acting much like a composed detective.

She was like a sulky little kid who'd been told they couldn't have a certain toy.

Holmes and Poirot would have been insulted, surely.

Meanwhile, the others turned to look at George with surprise. He had never once raised his voice during that confrontation- and yet it had been him with his calm words, rather than Jessica and Battler with their open anger, that had made Erika retreat.

Two light pink spots appeared on Shannon's face. With a small sigh of relief, she bowed to George- partially out of thanks, and partially to hide her flustered state- as she said gratefully, "A-ah, um… George… … Thank you… …!"

"Oh? Ahaha…" George laughed. "It's no problem. It didn't inconvenience me or anything. I would do anything to protect you."

"A-ah… George…!"

Meanwhile, Jessica rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath to Battler, "Heh. George is such a show off. I bet, deep down inside, he was totally _loving _that."

"Ihihi… Well, maybe a girl like Erika around isn't such a bad thing after all," Battler replied. He smirked. "Next time, I'll have to play the handsome pri~nce~"

"Pfft. Yeah, right. Dream on, Battler."


	267. Kanon makes a friend

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #267: Kanon makes a friend

* * *

><p>"Hey, furniture boy, cute little furniture kiiid~ Wanna play with me? Wanna play? Nyeheheh~"<p>

Kanon's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in irritation. It was rare for emotions to openly flicker across his face. He viewed himself like a table or a chair, hewn from wood, so emotions were wasted on him. He had never tried to practise them because he had never believed he deserved to have them, or that he had the correct muscles under his skin to formulate them properly- so he was pitifully inept at displaying anything other than blankness on his empty face.

Be still and silent, just like furniture should.

Don't laugh. Don't cry. Don't shout. Don't scream.

That kind of behavior truly was fitting for furniture.

He couldn't feel emotion. So he wouldn't.

And yet, despite his typically stoic features... ... his eyes did narrow.

Just a little bit.

It was difficult to spot the slight shift without a magnifying glass, but it was there all the same.

That might not have seemed overly important to most people yet, on a blank face like Kanon's, even a subtle change like that was incredible. It was almost as if a real table had started to talk. It was something that would only happen in a dream.

Ha.

Kanon himself was now beginning to believe this silly, farcical situation was a dream. No human being could be this incredibly persistent or annoying. No human being had rabbit ears like that, either.

Rokkenjima had grown rather more... animated... ever since Miss Maria brought an armful of her cute stuffed toys with her during an overnight visit with Rosa. Maria's toys might have looked like mere child's playthings to anybody else- but Kanon, who was furniture imbued with Kinzo's immense magical power, could see things other people could not.

Kanon saw the true forms of those toys instantly.

Kanon saw the little lion boy who trailed after Maria, saying 'uryu' cutely at each and every thing. He saw those four bunny girls in the military style uniforms. And he couldn't help seeing that one particular bunny girl with the annoying laugh and perpetual silly smirk.

That annoying rabbit girl (Kanon couldn't remember her name) just would not leave him alone. He was supposed to be tending to the roses, under Madam's orders- but that was nearly impossible, not just because the shears were too heavy for a slender boy like Kanon to handle comfortably, or because of the burning sunshine, but because that blue-haired rabbit girl just kept on _talking _and _talking _and _talking- __mostly about carrots._

Che.

It was enough to make Kanon contemplate slicing off one of her ears with the shears.

Even a table would be moved to tip itself over and reduce its body to a pile of matchsticks if it was subjected to this eternal torture.

"Nihihi!~ Come on, come oooon~" she continued to say, voice sing-song, silly- just like her perpetual smile. "Come ooooon, nihihi~ I'm bored! I want to plaaaay! Play with me, cute furniture Kanooon, play with me!"

His response was terse and clipped; humorously so, in comparison to the bunny's playful banter. "I'm busy."

"Nyeheh!~ How boring! Boring, boring- Kanon is boooring! Here~ I'll make you more fun, nyeheheh~"

And, playfully, she prodded him in the ribs.

"K-kyaaa!"

…Kanon was quite embarrassed to admit the sudden assault actually made him squeak in alarm. He jumped. The bulky shears, difficult to handle already, fell from his hands and landed on the floor with such a loud clatter a small congregation of noisy seagulls nearby flew away in alarm, cawing, feathers ruffled.

"Nihi~ Oops~ Butterfingers~ I thought furniture of the great magician Goldsmith would be a little less clumsy than thaaat, nihihi~"

Kanon turned to look at the smiling bunny- and, curses, s-she was actually _taller _than him, even though she acted like such an irritating _child_, and, and, nnnghh... nngkjgkkskjddkfjksssdsssss... ...

Kanon might have been having a mental breakdown.

He wasn't really used to all the attention.

"T-this... it… i-it was all your fault you dropped them!" he shouted angrily, face flushed. "S-stop laughing at me!"

"Nyeheheheh! Don't wanna, don't wanna! Serious people like this are soooo cute when they get angry! Nyahahahahahihihi!~"

There was no doubt about it now. Kanon was _glaring._ He was _actually glaring._

If his narrowed eyes expression was akin to a talking table, this glare filled with unabashed malice was akin to a table doing a series of back flips ending in a rousing chorus of the French national anthem.

"L-leave me alone!" Kanon snapped, pushing the bunny girl away from him so her ears bounced. "Furniture doesn't _play_! Furniture obeys orders and fulfils their master's wishes, b-but it doesn't have fun, i-it definitely can't have _fun_! It doesn't have the abilities to do something so frivolous as 'have fun', k-know your place!"

The bunny pouted.

"Hm... ... but Kanoooon~" (Kanon winced. He hated the way she said his name. Somehow, she made it sound like an insult). "That's boring!~ Even furniture should be able to play a little, or it'll get old and rusty!~ Nyeheheh~ It's just like those shears, right?" She beamed; one small fang visible in the corner of her mouth. "If people don't use those shears, then they'll get stuck, and they'll be too difficult to use, nyeheh~ Being played with keeps furniture young, riii~iight? All work and no play is bad for us. There's such a thing as being too serious, nyeheh."

"People don't _play _with shears, they use them for set purposes- namely, to cut hedges. Furniture is kept well oiled by doing their jobs. Nothing else."

"Humph. Well, well! Somebody is really grumpy, nihi! I bet you're the kind of gloomy kid who thinks the glass of carrot juice is al~ways half empty, huh?"

"... … …I don't like carrots."

"KyaaaaaAaA? No way!"

The bunny girl's eyes widened to comical proportions- almost as huge as her stupid mouth.

Backing away as though she'd been scalded, the bunny wailed, ears standing upright, "H-how can you not like carrots? Heresy, that's heresy! Uguuu... I-I'll make you die the death for saying something so heartless, mean, cruel and nasty! Nyeeeeeeh!"

Kanon sighed. He wished he'd never shared his preferences of garden vegetables with this bunny now. Why was he even engaging her in conversation further, anyway?

Furniture didn't need to have conversation.

Although... h-he couldn't deny that, even though this girl was very, very annoying...

Well.

Maybe having a bit of friendly conversation from time to time... ... w-wasn't that bad...

Even if Kanon wasn't very good at talking.

Even if this made him feel very, very uncomfortable.

Even then...

"Heh~ W-well, it's not my loss if you don't like carrots, nihi... I-It's obvious you don't eat enough healthy food, given you're so short and tiny!~ Short and tiny, soooo~ooo short and tiny, nyeheheh, nyahahahihi!~"

"N-ngh... ... W-what did you just say? I-I'm not short, y-you idiot!"

"K-kyaaa? Don't suddenly draw your blade out on a woman like that!"

"Then don't say things about my height!"

"Kyaaa, t-this got serious way too quickly! Calm down, cute kid, calm down! Nyeeeeh, d-don't cut me! I-isn't something like this a frivolous activity for furniture too, shouldn't you be tending to the roses? Nyaaaaah! N-no fair, no fair, you're just as mean as Lucifer! She _always_ tries to kill me!"

"And for a very good reason! Hyaaaaa!"

There was a loud _whoosh_, as Kanon's blade sliced cleanly through the air. It would have traced a beautiful, bloody red wound across the bunny girl's chest had she not jumped away just in time.

Having a conversation like this was oddly pleasant, in its own weird little way, but Kanon would never forgive remarks about his height.

_Never._


	268. An optimal level of happiness

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #268: An optimal level of happiness

* * *

><p>"Tch. I can't believe you can eat so much of that and stay so tiny."<p>

"Miss Virgilia says women have a separate stomach for PUDDING. That makes all women MAGICAL," said Dlanor seriously, blinking at Will from across the table over the top of her ice-cream sundae.

Will made another 'tch' noise and shook his head. It was difficult to tell what emotion was behind that little noise, but Dlanor had known Will ever since she was a very, very small girl- even smaller than she was now- and familiarity, coupled with her own innate ability to read people, led her believe Willard H. Wright was expressing the emotion known as 'amusement'.

"You don't seriously believe that, do you, shortie? I didn't think you were that naïve."

"Of course NOT. I am able to eat a lot of sugar and retain my slender physique because Gertrude makes sure I exercise and eat VEGETABLES. My job also requires me to remain HEALTHY. It is more fun to think of it as Miss Virgilia explained, THOUGH."

"Heh. Well, you're right there. The magical explanation always makes for a more interesting story."

"Mm. It's just like children with Mr. Santa Claus. It's more fun to think he gives presents on Christmas rather than the PARENTS."

"Yeah, I guess... Magic is a lot more fun," said Will, with a small yawn. Stretching, his bones gave a small click in protest- though he didn't give it much heed. His bones were always creaking like that nowadays, given how often he sat around at home. "Sometimes, accepting 'magic' might be kinder than destroying it... If magic makes people happy, then guarding that magic would be like protecting the heart, wouldn't it? Telling a young child Santa doesn't exist would just be cruel and petty. Heh. Although it sounds like something a few witches would do, if they ever got bored."

"Bored witches are very DANGEROUS. But I know Miss Virgilia would never do such a THING."

"I'm sure she wouldn't. You're smart enough to only acquaint yourself with nice people. Heh." Will laughed a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Apart from me, of course."

"I would classify you as a nice person TOO. Please do not be so hard on YOURSELF."

"Heh… Well, if it sounds too whiney or pitiful, I'll try."

"Yes. Please DO. I would like to see you smile AGAIN. It would make me HAPPY."

Then, Dlanor spooned the small portion of half-melted ice-cream into her mouth.

Dlanor might have been a very elegant eater when she was under Gertrude's supervision, but whenever presented with a large amount of delicious food like this- particularly ice-cream- she did have a slight tendency to forget her manners. Dlanor was the type of person who might have looked quite serious on the outside, but she could really get swept up in the atmosphere and betray her typically calm facade by acting like the child she really was from time to time.

Will's eyes softened as he watched Dlanor demolish her ice-cream sundae; the silver spoon glinting under the lights of the small café, as she shoved spoonful after spoonful of delicious, frozen dairy goodness between her parted lips. They were sticky from half-melted ice-cream; as was her cheek- and as she licked her lips, her mouth formed a small '3' shape of happiness, just like a cat.

Watching Dlanor really was entertaining. She loved sweets- but she never, ever, ever seemed to get an inch taller, or wider. Maybe that really was magic.

"Aaah... Now I feel really old," Will said, sighing, as he rubbed the back of his neck (it had started to ache). "I can't even remember the last time I ate something with such a happy look on my face."

"Then you sould try Ronove's COOKING. It's very TASTY."

"That guy? No thanks. Sorry, I'll have to pass. I don't like sweet foods."

Well, to be more precise, Will didn't like eating sweet foods served by a demon with an incomprehensible smile and an irritatingly formal manner of speech, but what he said was more or less the truth.

"Oh. You have my SYMPATHIES."

"Hn? Why?"

"Not liking sweets must be very SAD. Perhaps that is why you always look so MISERABLE?"

"I'm not miserable," Will countered wearily, without any real conviction in his voice (after all, Dlanor was quite right). "I'm just... aah, I've just been feeling like an old man lately... Like, maybe my reasoning really is out dated. The SSVD doesn't focus much on the 'whydunnit', and... hmm, it's difficult to explain. If I tried, I'd just get a headache. I don't want to think about it."

There was a small silence.

Softly, and rather more hesitantly than usual, Dlanor said, "...Gertrude says it is unhealthy to keep problems to YOURSELF. Even more unhealthy than eating cake for BREAKFAST. So, if you have a problem, I will listen to you, and maybe then you won't put on WEIGHT."

Will looked at Dlanor curiously for a few moments. The young girl wasn't attired not in her inquisitor's uniform, but a light yellow summer dress with frills and white, lacy socks. With the small ice-cream stain still on her cheek her pink tongue hadn't managed to lick up, she really did look young; even more so than usual; maybe about eleven or twelve. In contrast, Will just felt... very tired, and lethargic, and yes, Dlanor was entirely right... He was feeling a bit miserable, yes.

Just a bit.

Realizing that your job was that of a glorified executioner had a habit of disheartening people.

Still... Dlanor, in her little yellow dress and white socks, was even younger than Will- and her job was very much the same. Yet, she didn't look miserable. The way she had eaten her ice-cream, with that unabashed cat-like smile of happiness, betrayed no feelings of upset. Dlanor looked young... and she was able to act it, as well.

Somehow, she was still able to smile over something simple like sweets.

Maybe that wasn't a sign of naïveté at all... but one of strength.

Dlanor was a very, very strong girl.

And that was just a little bit inspiring.

It made Will want to pinch himself for being such a maudlin idiot.

If Dlanor could be happy, then there was really no reason why he couldn't, either.

Age didn't have anything to do with it.


	269. Sweet dreams

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #269: Sweet dreams

* * *

><p>Yasu was a dreamer.<p>

It stood to reason that, because she was a dreamer, she liked to dream- but not just in her sleep; for everybody did that. Yasu's fantasies followed her throughout the day, and they didn't wait patiently for her head to hit her pillow before they surfaced inside her mind.

It wasn't as if she was crazy- she was sure wasn't.

She was merely miserable... and sad... and lonely.

She was the youngest maid on Rokkenjima, and she didn't have as much experience as the others- so it only stood to reason she would mess up from time to time. That was natural. But the other maids didn't see it like that. They were obsessed with their image and how Madam perceived them. They were grateful to the Ushiromiya family for giving them a chance to work and earn money- and they were probably lonely girls, too, given they had all come from the Fukuin Orphanage. They didn't have any families, either. So the constant pressure upon them to impress Madam, and their own feelings of bitterness, built up inside them day after day- and the only outlet they had for it was bullying.

Yasu thought she could maybe understand why the other maids were all mean to her. It was because they were really sad and lonely people too, wasn't it? So... she didn't hate them. Yasu had never really hated anybody in her whole life, and she wasn't sure she knew how to.

But, just because her feelings were 'not hatred', it didn't mean Yasu liked them.

Truthfully... she was scared of them.

Ruon, who was the oldest and so was blamed on behalf of the other maids when something went wrong, always had to snippily reprimand Yasu for making her look bad and damaging her pride.

Renon, who was scolded a lot by Madam for not being as quick or as thorough in cleaning as the other maids, had to bully Yasu for her mistakes to cure her envy of the others.

Sanon, who had a very short temper, had to shout at Yasu when she made the slightest error because that was her nature and she shouted at everybody.

Reinon, who was rather soft-spoken and mature, had to chide Yasu for not working to a high enough standard, because Reinon was just as obsessed with cleanliness and order as Madam was herself.

Yasu was terrified of them all. They were all older than her, and all seemed so much stronger and so much mature. Because she was the youngest, she was always bullied. The maids all took their pain and misery out of the weakest, because it was easiest.

The target was Yasu.

The new maids who arrived on Rokkenjima weren't much better. It didn't help that they were all still older than Yasu. Manon, Berune and Asune they were called- and although they had officially replaced the four older maids, it wasn't unknown for Ruon, Renon, Sanon or Reinon to work a few extra shifts on Rokkenjima here and there if extra help was required for big events.

Manon was catty and cruel, and teased people incessantly.

Berune was good at getting in the good graces of Madam and the older servants by acting sweet and innocent, but she was, in truth, a horrible bully; even to Yasu, who had been working on Rokkenjima longer than her.

Asune was nice enough, but she was an air-head with a bit of an inferiority complex, so whenever she did things wrong she would childishly blame Yasu for not instructing her properly.

When all seven maids were on the island at one time, it was too much for Yasu to bear.

Everybody took their pain out on Yasu- but Yasu couldn't take her pain out on anybody else in return.

So she had to dream instead.

She had to fix her own pain and misery with happy thoughts. Thoughts of being a little stronger and a little more powerful so nobody would bully her again; idle fantasies and daydreams belonging to a young girl, who desperately wanted to feel like she was worth just a tiny bit more in the big wide world.

So she dreamed she was a witch.

She dreamed those maids were actually fun and noisy sisters she could laugh and play with- but of course, she was a witch and they were _her _servants (a witch had to have servants), so they all called her 'Milady'.

She dreamed that Genji, who was so cool and distant to he frightened her a little too, was the kind father figure she had always wanted, who made her delicious food to cheer her up and always smiled.

But, when it came to Kumasawa...

Yasu didn't know what to dream about. She didn't know what to wish for.

Kumasawa was so nice and kind that Yasu couldn't think of how to improve upon her at all. Kumasawa was a kind motherly figure, who always protected Yasu from the cruelty of the other maids when she was in earshot; who had patiently taught Yasu those tricks so she would never lose her keys or the little cleaning brush or anything else again; who discussed mystery novels with Yasu during their shared free time just like an old friend; who cheered Yasu up with strange mackerel jokes whenever she felt depressed; and who sometimes, on occasions, even baked apple pies for Yasu just to bring a smile to her face.

Kumasawa was the mother Yasu had never had- but whom she had always wanted.

And Yasu couldn't improve upon that.

She couldn't, except...

Except for a certain fear that she was beginning to experience.

Kumasawa was old. Her hair was grey, and her face was lined and wrinkled with marks of her age. She wasn't a very effectual worker because of her lumbago and her arthritis, and even her eyesight was beginning to go. She probably couldn't keep working for much longer.

She... would have to leave one day.

And when she left, she would leave Yasu.

And Yasu would be all alone, all over again.

That thought terrified the young girl- and so, to heal the pain in her heart, she dreamed.

She dreamed Kumasawa was a beautiful young witch, just like her; although... ehehe, it would be kind of funny if she kept that silver hair even as a young woman, wouldn't it? Maybe that was a little bit mean, but oh well, ehe~ And, maybe because of Kumasawa's deteriorating eyesight, this witch could keep her eyes closed? Oh, and that blonde, curly haired demon- the one who was 'Beatrice', before Yasu wanted that title for herself- could be a friend for this witch, couldn't she? Yasu was beginning to tire of that curly-haired demon teasing her... so, although it might be mean, she could kindly ask the demon to tease Yasu's witch 'Teacher' instead.

Yasu's Teacher would always be young, though- even if she possessed thousands of years' worth of knowledge on magic.

She would be perpetually young.

And then she would never, ever have to leave Yasu. That way, she would never have to be lonely.

Even if he never came back, and the roots of love buried deeply inside her chest never fully healed... she hoped she would be fine.

Because she would still have a family.

And they would never leave her.

* * *

><p>Yasu was a lonely.<p>

It stood to reason that, because she was lonely, she liked to dream.


	270. Sleepyhead

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #270: Sleepyhead

* * *

><p>"My, my, Beato. Your hair is so tangled, have you really been brushing it at all?"<p>

"Of course I have, Teacher, I'm not a child anymore," said Beatrice. She folded her arms and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in subtle irritation. "Che. I can bring people back from the dead with a wave of my pipe, or turn the clouds into rainbows made of seven colors of sour skittles- do you _really _think I can't handle something as simple as brushing my hair?"

"Well, _your _idea of doing a task properly and mine are quite different," said Virgilia lightly, with a smile. "You might be full of youth and zeal, but you have a bad habit of doing these mundane, everyday tasks half-heartedly, Beato. Have you been brushing your hair with one hundred strokes every morning, and in the night before you go to bed?"

"... ... ...Mu, w-well maybe not as many as one hundred…"

"Ah, now, there you see? That's why your hair is so messy~"

"Hey, come on, Teacheeer, my hands get tired, okay? I'm not so old that I find repeating the same thing over and over relaxing, it's just a pain!"

Virgilia sighed. "Just as I thought. You haven't been taking care of yourself at all, have you?It's a good thing you have such a kind mentor, now, isn't it? Oh ho ho!~ Now, please sit still."

Groaning, Beato muttered rebelliously, acting just like a tearaway teenager, "Aaaah, seriously, Teacher, do we _have_ to do this? I knooow how to brush my ooown ha- aaaair? Atatatata! Ow, ow, _**OW**_."

H-her scalp...

All of a sudden, it felt like it was on fire!

W-was Virgilia really brushing her hair, or was she trying to yank it right out of her head?

"I apologize, Beato, but maybe if your hair wasn't in such a state I wouldn't have to use so much force, would I?~"

Irritatingly enough, Virgilia's voice was light as strawberry parfait. Obviously, she didn't appreciate the pain searing through Beato's nerve endings... or maybe she did, but she found it amusing.

Virgilia tried to act mature, but she could be surprisingly childish at times; even more so than her cute pupil (especially when Gaap was around).

Well, Beato _had _to have learnt her rotten personality from somewhere, riiight?~

"Ow! Teacheeeer! Y-you're just doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Of course not~ I'm just trying to work out a difficult knot~"

"Liar! You're doing it on purpose, you're doing it on purpooose! Are you _still _sore over my incredible breakthrough victory the last time we played together, huuuh?~ Are you still saaaad that I speared you so easily, so effortlessly, riiiiiight through the baaaaack? Ahahahahihihihihyahahahaha- aaaatatata, ow, OW! T-That's **no way **to treat a lady!"

"Oh, come now; you never treat me like a lady, either. Doesn't this make us even? Oh ho ho~"

"Grrrr… …! T-teaaaaacheeeer!"

Virgilia had just dragged the elaborate onyx comb through another small knot of golden hair.

Ushiromiya Battler, meanwhile, watched the strangely cute and domestic scene with tired, half-lidded eyes, yawning every once in a while. He was much too sleepy to fully appreciate how adorable it was; Virgilia giggling at Beato's pain while Beato snapped at her, every vestige of grace and poise evaporating from her just like steam rising from a kettle- but the silly sight was still enough to warm his heart. Just a bit.

Aaah, it looked like Beato had a very soft side to her, too...

When she wasn't shouting bloody murder and threatening to summon her shoulder towers, that was~

Ihihihihi... hihi... haaaaa...

_Yaaaaaaawn..._

Aaaaan...

-aah?

Somebody had placed steadying hands on Battler's shoulders, and now they were holding him in place so he didn't fall forwards, unconscious, into his cup of black tea.

"Pu ku ku~ Please be careful, Battler- I wouldn't want you to scald yourself."

It was Ronove.

Battler blinked up at the cheerful visage demon butler wearily, his eyes half-lidded very much like Virgilia's; a teensy tiny, ever so slightly grateful smile capturing his lips, which he never would've worn so openly before Ronove if he wasn't so damn exhausted.

In his defence, Battler blamed Beelzebub and her penchant for waking him very, very early in the morning by jumping on his bed, then stealing his breakfast. Sleep deprivation and starvation really were advanced methods of torture. He still had to get that damn big-boobed sister back for that...

"Aaah... Thank you very much," Battler slurred, voice thick with fatigue. "Guess you're not completely useless after all, heheh~"

"Coming from you, that is very high praise indeed. I'll take those words to heart. Thank you~ Aah, and, to return the favor... I suppose I should pay you some form of compliment?"

"Aaah? It's gonna be somethin' creepy, isn't it?" Battler pouted. "I'm not tellin' you my cup size no matter how nice you are, you know."

"I... wasn't aware you had one? Rather... pu ku ku..." Ronove laughed- and ruffled Battler's hair. At least, he would've done- was there not something in the way. A large, wide-brimmed, very purple and rather frilly something, that appeared to be attempting to eat Battler's head. "I was going to tell you what a lovely hat you were wearing."

Battler blinked up at Ronove curiously for a few moments- before, finally, the demon butler's words clicked properly in his mind.

His half-lidded eyes filled with recognition... and he grinned.

"Ah, yeah... that hat. Virgilia put it there for safe keeping. She said it got in her eyes when she was tryin' to focus on Beato's hair, ihihihi~ You think it suits me?"

"It looks impeccable on you. I think you should wear frills more often; not many men can pull it off so effortlessly, pu ku ku~"

"Heh... heheh... aaaan' you said it wouldn't be a creepy compliment, you lying bastard, heh... ahaha~ Haau... ...~"

And, with another cute, unabashed yawn-

-Battler's head, adorned with Virgilia's hat, fell against Ronove's arm with a soft _thud_.

He fell asleep in a matter of moments.


	271. Needled 24 7

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #271: Needled 24/7

* * *

><p>"Ah, thanks a lot, Kyrie. This looks delicious," said Rudolf, as picking his chopsticks up off the kitchen table.<p>

The small smile on his face was miles apart from the wide, almost feral smirks that typically graced his features when he was in the company of attractive women, or struggling through difficult business meetings trying to appear in control. Whenever Kyrie saw that sincere expression on her husband's face she couldn't help but return it with a smile of her own. She was sure she was the only one who got to see Rudolf in a relaxed state like that; tie loose, business jacket hanging over the back of his chair, slicked back hair slightly disordered from running his hands through it in agitation.

Hm… Rudolf always tried to look so... in control- but that wasn't entirely true, was it?

Kyrie was glad she got to be the one who was able to soothe Rudolf's pain. She was glad she got to see him in this less than perfect and pristine state. She was glad she got to see his real smiles.

She was glad she got to see the real Rudolf.

The_ weaker_ Rudolf.

And, most of all… she was glad she got to keep it all for herself. Every last bit. From the slight flecks of grey beginning to run through his carefully styled hair, to the wrinkles forming under his eyes and around his mouth, it _all_ belonged to her.

Not Asumu.

_Her_.

Kyrie had worked hard to be able to experience something like this; sitting at the table, facing her husband, as she delicately ate her food and giggled at some story Ange told her about school, and she would defend it with everything she had.

She would cut down everything that got in her way.

...Even if that person just so happened to be her own husband.

"Hehe~ So dear," said Kyrie lightly, cocking her head to one side like a sparrow, "did you have a good day at work?"

"Does it look like it?" asked Rudolf wryly, with a self-deprecating laugh. "Dealing with all that crap is such a pain- it's giving me wrinkles."

"You already have wrinkles, daddy!" Ange piped up.

"Ahaha... Yes, yes. Be quiet, you, and eat your vegetables Kyrie worked so hard on making," Rudolf said. He ruffled Ange's hair, making her glare at him from under her red bangs. "Come on, I know you can eat it if you try, a smart kid like you."

Ange's face darkened. "Uu... Don't like vegetables. Don't want to. Being smart doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Ah, but vegetables will make you grow big and tall!"

"If I'm big and tall you won't be able to play airplanes with me anymore. You won't be able to pick me up. So I don't want to get tall," said Ange sensibly. "Not eating them." And she pushed her plate of vegetables away, a look of disgust on her face. "I'm going to go watch Card Master Sakura now. I'm finished!"

And with that, Ange pushed her chair aside and ran out of the kitchen; her little feet beating a small and soft 'thud thud thud' pattern against the floor like the paw prints of a cat.

Instead of getting annoyed, Rudolf laughed as he watched her retreating back. He was never one to scold his children anyway; and, instead of finding Ange's rebellious nature annoying, he thought it was pretty cute.

"Ah, she really is a stubborn little kid. I wonder where she gets it from..."

Kyrie didn't quail under the pointed look Rudolf shot her. If anything, her smile became a few degrees brighter.

"Hm, yes, it is a mystery~ Ehehe. But, dear, you can be quite stubborn, too."

"Hn? What do you mean?"

"Well... to work so hard at your business without giving in to the pressure of rival companies... that takes a certain degree of tenacity. And there is that slightly... ah... childish streak in you, which makes you unable to back down from silly little arguments. Oh, and... of course..."

Kyrie's eyes flashed dangerously. Her grip on her chopsticks tightened slightly.

"There are your continued attempts to flirt with your secretary, despite your gentle wife's best wishes that you _really, really wouldn't_."

There was a very long silence.

Rudolf froze; chopsticks inches from his mouth, rice pinched between them.

Kyrie was still smiling pleasantly... but the atmosphere in the kitchen had just taken a rather dark turn; even if the oblivious Ange was singing along to the theme tune of her favorite magical girl anime in the living room, and the scent of delicious food danced through the kitchen.

"Ah... ahaha..." With a nervous laugh, Rudolf looked at his wife imploringly and said, "Hey, Kyrie... How do you know about that, anyway?"

Kyrie's eerie smile did not waver. "I have my ways. When it comes to you, dear, I can't afford to let you do as you please. Ufufu~"

"H-heh... heheh... Aaah, there really is no fooling you. I'm... impressed. My wife is so smart. Heheh. A real great detective. But, Kyrie-" more seriously now, "you know that Megumi means nothing to me, right? I was having a bad day, and nothing was going right, and I just wanted to let off some steam- and, heh, Megumi is a very attractive woman, and people like being in the company of attractive things to cheer them up. That's human nature, right? I was only flirting with her a _little_ bit; you know I only have eyes for you. Megumi doesn't compare. It was only 'cause she was pretty and she was there, you know? So... don't take it too personally... please? Heheh..."

Kyrie's smile was icy, below zero. It would have been enough to make anybody tremble. More frighteningly still, her voice was calm, carefully composed; giving the impression she was like some deadly poisonous viper, ready to strike.

The next blow would probably be fatal.

Ihihi… ihihi… aah, now Rudolf felt like rubbing his neck, almost as though it had been punctured by sharp, venomous fangs.

"Oh, don't worry, dear," said Kyrie lightly. "There's nothing for me to forgive. I have already dealt with the problem."

…Ha. And that sounded pretty damn sinister.

"A-ah... dealt with it?" asked Rudolf, trying to diffuse the thick tension by adding a little comedy to it. "You haven't ordered some shady people connected with the Sumaderas to serve Megumi some matcha in their underground torture chamber, have you?"

"Hehehe~ Don't be silly. Poor little Megumi, who is only twenty-three years old, isn't the one at fault here. It's somebody else... ehehe...~"

"I-I... I see..." Rudolf swallowed. "S-so... what have you done to resolve the problem... may I ask... _dear_?"

"Nothing, nothing~" said Kyrie airly. "I only made a special addition to your dinner, that's all."

"Special edition...?"

"Mm. If you find the needle in your rice, please do let me know."

* * *

><p><strong>an:** I think Kyrie is hands down one of the scariest characters in the whole series XD


	272. Author unknown

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #272: Author unknown

* * *

><p>It had been a slow, lazy day in the meta world (just like all the other days, then), and the seven sisters were (somehow) all crammed on a too-small sofa, elbows and knees and awkward limbs digging into each other, clutching cushions or bags of popcorn, trying to watch a movie.<p>

It would have been quite a warm, cosy scene- had one not realized the movie they were watching was so filled with blood and gore it should have been called 'Cruel and Unusual Deaths for Unhealthy People With a Horrible Obsession', instead of the pretentious, arty title displayed on the box.

Even so, the seven stakes had probably done worse things to humans in their lives than the characters in this drama ever had.

"That was a pretty good movie."

"Yeah~ The blood splatter effects looked kind of decent for once!" said Mammon, smirking. "At least, they didn't make me wanna laugh to death, fufu~"

"Maybe even Leviathan gets it right once in a while," said Satan, rolling her eyes. "But she's useless the rest of the time."

"H-hey, I'm not useless!"

"Not like that kid who nearly got suffocated by a fish, hihi~"

"Right," said Lucifer, asserting an authoritarian tone, "we're turning it off and going to sleep now."

"Awww, but Luci-"

"No 'buts'. It's off," said Lucifer, extracting herself from between Mammon and Beelzebub so she could turn the television off.

"Man." Beelzebub stuck out her lower lip. "You're no fun, big sis!"

"And the rest of you have rather too much fun. Somebody has to be responsible."

"Alright, alright. We're heard it all before." Mammon rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to stay here much longer anyway. Satan's crushing me with her fat behind."

"_S-say that again and I'll rip your tongue out!_"

"Ahhh, I provoked it! Save me, Asmo!" Mammon pulled the younger sister in front of her- very nearly dragging her off the couch with all the force she used. "Save me, save me!"

"I don't wanna! I don't wanna get attacked by Satan- uwahhh!"

Belphegor was the only one not involving in this light hearted fun. Belphegor and 'light hearted' mixed about as well as a young child and an electrical socket, so maybe it was the best- but, squished at the end of her couch, her arms round her knees and eyes fixed on the black television screen, there was something distinctly disturbing about her lack of even a smile.

"…You turned it off."

"Hm?" Lucifer tilted her head in confusion. "Of course I did. The movie was over."

Belphegor's voice was soft when she replied, "…The credits. You forgot them."

"That's 'cause nobody watches those, duuh!" said Beelzebub, rolling her eyes. "They're so boring! Who wants to sit and stare at a bunch of words about people I don't even know doing things I don't even care about? Kyakyakya~"

"If I wanted to do that I could read a book," said Leviathan, nodding.

"I didn't know you could read, Levia?"

"S-shut up, Mammon!"

"But," trying desperately to interject above the sounds of arguing, Belphegor raised her voice slightly, "if you don't want the credits you'll never know how many people worked to make the movie?"

There was a pause- broken only when Mammon said, "Soooo?"

"I-if a lot of people worked hard to create something everyone can enjoy, I think you should at least take the time to watch the credits so you can thank them. It's only polite. Hard work _should_ be appreciated- or do you only care about the finished result, and not who made that result in the first place?"

There was a small silence. Belphegor looked strangely, uncharacteristically impassioned about this; one hand on her chest, her eyes imploring, brows furrowed slightly as she tried to convey her feelings to her sisters, who surely wouldn't understand… …

And, of course, she had been entirely right in that assumption. The silence only lasted a few seconds- and was then broken by the sound of Mammon snorting; folding her arms.

"Yeah. I don't really care at all."

The other sisters nodded with her.

Belphegor looked between her sisters for a few moments, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, as though pondering whether to say anything further- but the expressions on her sisters' faces were blank, empty, and she knew that no matter what she said, her words wouldn't reach them.

And so she sighed.

It really looked like nobody would understand…

She'd have to watch the credits herself later- when nobody else was around to laugh at her.


	273. A soft landing

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #273: A soft landing

* * *

><p>"Tch. Honestly," Jessica said, tutting, in a manner so similar to her mother's Shannon had to stifle a small giggle. Folding her arms, she continued, "So I finally see that guy for the first time in six years, and what does he do when we're all together? He goes to sleep. What a pain."<p>

Encased in a cocoon of blankets like a caterpillar inside a chrysalis, feet poking out one end and his disorganized hair from the other, Battler mumbled tiredly, "I can still hear you, you know. M'not asleep _yet_."

And then he yawned.

Jessica rolled her eyes. Once more, the irritated motion, coupled with her exasperated posture, was so very similar to her mother on almost every count Shannon's face turned light pink as she attempted to swallow down any bits of sneaky laughter that threatened to leave her mouth. Sniggering openly at Jessica whilst she was meant to working, _especially _during an occasion as important as a family conference, wouldn't have made Shannon look very good- even if she was only amongst the cousins. Sometimes, Shannon thought Natsuhi must have had some kind of magical power- or else she was league with elusive demons who could follow her, invisible, about the mansion. Natsuhi seemed to know exactly what all the servants were doing even if she wasn't in the room herself.

It was a little creepy- and maybe Shannon was just being paranoid, given she was a girl who liked fantasies and fairytales, but she didn't want to laugh at Jessica just in case Natsuhi would be able to hear her somehow.

Fortunately, Jessica was too busy being annoyed to notice Shannon's poorly concealed mirth- though George might have noticed, given the small smile he gave Shannon.

"This is so stupid!" Jessica complained. "I wanted to talk to all the cousins together, but you're just being really boring! Urgh!"

A soft "ihihi~" could be heard from underneath the shifting pile of blankets.

"Aaaw~ Did my cute cousin Jessica miss me?~ Did she really, really want to talk to me?~ Ihihihi, it sure is nii~iice being so popular, ihihi- o-ow… atata... …"

His laugher soon died away when Jessica punched him upside the head.

"Idiot! Like _I _missed _you_!"

Hehe, w-weren't girls like that, who couldn't confess their real feelings like that, called something? What did George say? Tsundora?

Now it was getting even harder for Shannon to suppress her sudden, silly good humor. Teasing Jesisca would have been very mean and very unprofessional, though, so she had to try her best not to!

Stony face, Shannon, stony face… …

S-she could do it… …

"I think maybe being on that boat wore Battler out a little. We should let him rest," said George lightly. His tone was perfectly pleasant and civil, but if one strained their ears, they could hear a faint teasing note in there.

It was mean to laugh at Battler, yes, but… she hadn't seen Battler's fabled breakdown during the boat ride there, and now she was really, really curious, ahahaha-

"Fall, fall! Battler's gonna faaaaall!" Maria chipped in happily. "Kyakyakya!~"

"Pfft… ahaha! Oh yeah, of course, of course- if Battler's feeling a liiiittle sleepy, then it's probably because of all that shouting he did!" said Jessica, her ill mood from moments before evaporating at this chance to further mock her long-absent cousin (h-how cute! It was just her way of expressing how she felt, aaah, Jessica really was adorable…~) "Ahaha! I've been so insensitive not to realize that! Well then! If this huge guy here really was so _traumatized_ by being on a boat over a liiiittle bit of water, then maybe I should let him get some rest! Ahahahaha!"

"Kyakyakya~ Fall, fall, faaaall!"

"H-hey, listen, you two- I-I wasn't _scared_, okay? I-I'm not tired because of something like that, I-I, I… _uwaaaaah_…"

But Battler's rather huffy defence was soon interrupted by a large yawn- which only made Jessica and Maria laugh more.

Now, not even Shannon could contain her laughter. It was like trying to keep hold of water in her cupped hands. Once some of the water trickled through the gaps in her fingers, holding onto it seemed to be a waste of time, and the rest followed. Shannon couldn't stop herself.

She hadn't laughed at anything like that for a long while.

"Ahaha! Look, even Shannon thinks you're pathetic, Baaattler!" said Jessica, smirking. "Yeah- just go to sleep, see if I care! I'll try to be really understanding, okay? Ahahaha!~"

"A-aaah! D-damn it, you guys are all mean! E-even Shannon?"

"Well, your… performance… on the boat was quite amusing… ahaha~"

"A-and now George too? F-fine, whatever!" Battler shouted- throwing the blankets Shannon had brought for him off his sleep deprived body with a sudden movement. "I'm not even tired anyway- I'll prove to you I'm not! Ahaha- _aaah_?"

But trying to stand up on shaky legs, after having been tossed about by a boat for a few hours, with a pool of blankets round his feet, was not- as Battler soon learnt- a very good idea.

He hoped Jessica didn't mind _too_ much when he ungracefully fell over forwards, landing right on top of her.

Well… ihihi…

"A-aah, you pervert! You did that on purpose!"

"Pfft… ahahaha… … Milady, a-are you al… a… a-ahahaha…~"

"A-aah! Shut up, Shannooooon! G-get off, get off, get off! T-this is sexual harassment! Kyaaa!"

I-ihihi...

At least he had a soft landing.


	274. Happy Halloween for Mr Culprit

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #274: Happy Halloween for Mr. Culprit

* * *

><p>"Hehe~ Well, this is funny! Look at what Auaurora's dragged out a dirty alleyway this time! It's a poor, stray, dirty kitty who wants to play with me! Oh ho ho!"<p>

He regarded the young girl with obvious distaste; as though he had been enjoying a pleasant cup of tea, only to find a clod of dirt at the very bottom. Indeed, the look on his face clearly showed he thought she was a piece of dirt- maybe even less than that; his eyes narrowed, a cruel smirk splitting across his face even sharper than the serrated blade of a bread knife.

She didn't care. Most people had to do a double-take when they saw a cute magical girl as adorable as her~ She had that natural ability to capture hearts with a single word- and a single kiss, well... ehehe~

He'd probably never recover.

That smirk didn't suit his face at all. It was just all wrong- wrong, wrong, wrong; almost as wrong as Bern laughing (but that was cute, not creepy), or Featherine dropping her 'oh I'm so~o kind and polite' pretence and revealing the deranged lunatic that lurked just behind her empty eyes. His face shouldn't have twisted up like that. His skin shouldn't have been that pale. His eyes shouldn't have been red.

He shouldn't have looked like that at all.

It was like somebody who had seen a monochrome photograph of Ushiromiya Battler had tried to recreate his image in pen and pencil- and although the artist might have been very skilled, with very steady hands, it wasn't quite enough. A few of the lines were off here and there, giving him an eerily uncanny resemblance to that funny kid Lambdadelta knew...

…But he definitely, categorically, certainly_ wasn't_ Battler.

And, given the photograph was a monochrome one... well, this artist really had gone over the top when it came to coloring in the bare bones sketch of this new person. He was so dark and gloomy and depressing it made Lambdadelta, who loved the bright and the cheery (and the pink!) pout at such a wasted opportunity.

A black suit? Really? Magenta was much, much better! If she'd be in control of designing this new piece, she would have made him look about 120% cuter! There needed to be more candy-cane striped socks, ribbons like a birthday present, lots of pink, obviously- aaah, what a waste! This 'not-Battler' really was a waste!

And that made Lambadelta sad.

Just looking at him... made her feel sad.

What was he doing? Why had he invaded Beato's game board? Who had put him there?

Well, the answers to those questions were: a) becoming the culprit, b) to murder and c) Featherine.

Obviously.

Those answers were so basic Lambdadelta didn't even need to ask them aloud; she knew already.

Featherine really did like messing around in stories that didn't involve her, didn't she? It was enough to make Lambdadelta wrinkle up her nose in disgust. Featherine was selfish, so she thought she had to be involved in every single story that had ever been devised by mankind _ever_- and it was getting a little tiresome now.

Urgh. This kind of cheap stock evil character was so boring anyway; it wasn't even much fun to play with.

The mere existence of this guy annoyed Lambdadelta.

He was stood in the rose garden of Rokkenjima, time frozen, even the raindrops around them stuck in place and shaded sepia. Rose petals suspended in the black sky, lifted in a waltz by the hand of the winds, and a messy pile of corpses three humans high were stacked on top of each other under the arbor.

How tasteless. What a disgusting scene. This wouldn't go down well with Lambdadelta even if she had the finest toffee popcorn to go with it.

The moon, large and white and celestial, shone in the dark sky; peeping out over the top of the mansion.

Over the top of a new crime scene.

A bloodbath, really.

Piece Battler's hands were stained with sticky red blood. Its obnoxious color stood out horribly against his pale fingers. His eyes seemed to burn.

In this universe, frozen by magic, encased in a perpetual closed room of death and despair, Battler and Lambdadelta were the only ones with any color. That made the blood on his fingers, his clothes, his face (he really was messy, wasn't he? There was no finesse there), all the more shocking.

"You know... I don't like tacky pieces like you," Lambdadelta continued; that small pout still capturing her light pink lips. "That whole 'the culprit was the main character' thing has been done so many times before, it's really, really boring! Auau has a really bad taste in characters though... but I guess that's only to be expected. She's too old to keep up with modern trends, ufufu~"

"Oh? Really?" he asked quietly; his voice low, unusually sensual- mocking. "You think I'm boring? And 'the maid did it' is any better?"

Lambdadelta pouted, hands on her hips. "It is if it's a story of love, idiot! It was a really, really sad and tragic and beautiful story- and I don't want a cheap piece like you ruining it all! Aaaah, this is just like when producers make un-needed sequels to good movies! If the sequel sucks it can have a huge impact on the original, too! Rokkenjima doesn't need the seagulls to cry again! That child had her happy ending, okay? I made that happen! So you can just butt out of this game board, Mr. Culprit, and let the cute and pretty Lady Lambdadelta watch over a peaceful cat box with a box of caramel popcorn!"

"Hm... You don't like the stories I'm weaving on this game board? Aah, now that is a pity," he said. He smirked. It made him look like a dead thing that had been found under a stone. "The other theatergoing witches seem to enjoy it; the more brutal, the better... And... ... I'm enjoying myself, too. So... aren't you being rude? You shouldn't change the channel if everybody else likes it, should you?~ Ihihi...~ You're even more obnoxious than your outfit..."

"H-hey! There's nothing wrong with my outfit! I'm cute and adorable!"

"Heh, well...~ I wonder what the blood of such a 'cute' and 'adorable' little girl would taste like, hmm...?~ I've already sampled a whole smorgasbord of delicacies during my stay here... ihihi..."

He laughed coldly; slowly, and deliberately, licking the tips of his wet, sticky fingers free from blood. It spread across his tongue in a bitter tang that tasted of iron. He didn't even know whose blood it was. Maybe Shannon's. Rosa's. Natsuhi's? It all mingled together in the end, anyway.

Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes.

Humans to corpses.

A natural process. He was just speeding it up a little.

"However... I think I still have a little room from dessert," he said; a pleasant smile crossing his face. "Yes... even I am curious to discover what the blood of a witch such as yourself tastes like... ihihihi~"

"Humph! Like I'd give you such a chance! My delicious, candyfloss and strawberry sauce insides are only for my Bern, you hear? I wouldn't let a guy like you lick my finger if I got a paper cut! I warned you once already, didn't I?" Lambdadelta said- stabbing a black gloved finger in the direction of 'Battler', in an overdramatic gesture she might or might not have picked up from the real Battler at some point or another (energetic guys like that were so cool, ehehe~) "Get lost! Leave Beato's game board alone! If you want to play so badly, I'll throw you a stick and you catch it- but that's all! If you don't comply, you're going to get hurt, okay?~ I'm pretty flashy when I get serious, you know? Oh ho ho ho!"

He watched the little witch for a few moments, the hatred still entirely visible upon his face- before, finally...

It broke into a smile.

He smiled.

And he started to laugh.

"Hm... Interesting! Very, very interesting! I like it! This sounds far more challenging than mindless slaughter, over and over again! Ihihihi... ahahahaha... ahahaha!~ Yes! Fine! Try and kill me! Just try! Let's dance, shall we... Lady Lambdadeltaaa?"

"Of course! But don't cry, okaaay?~ It's going to be one shot knockout move from the drop-dead gorgeous Lady Lambdadelta, so I hope you're ready for it- and if you're not, TOO BAD!~ Oh ho ho ho!~"

And, with a small snap of her fingers, the black sky overhead exploded in an array of bright rainbow hues. Halloween-themed candy started to rain from the sky; red and white lollipops, pumpkin-shaped cookies, white marshmallows like spongy little ghosts, boiled sweets and shaped chocolate; all of it rained through the air, crashing through the frozen raindrops unceremoniously so they burst in small showers of water. As the candy fell, it began to explode; more bright arrays of candies spawning from each burst of bright light- until the whole scene looked magical, fantastical; a whole sky lit up by fireworks and filled with sweet treats.

Lambdadelta giggled and blew Battler a kiss from across the candy-strewn, rain-drenched, blood-spattered battlefield.

"Have fun in a light and fluffy dream world, okay? After all, isn't that what magic is about? Oh ho ho ho!~"


	275. EXTRA: Letters from three culprits

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #275: Letters from three culprits

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><p>Hello, it's nice to meet you. My name is Furudo Erika.<p>

Hnn… I can see you're shocked, right? You're shocked that you have received a letter- hand-written, no less- from a well-renowned detective such as myself, aren't you?

Ahaha, good, good; that is how it should be~ When in the presence of a detective, the natural response is to stare in awe; to widen the eyes; to open the mouth; to bow to such incredible intellect and unprecedented reasoning skills and realize, from the bottom of your heart, how lowly you are in comparison, riiiiiight?~

Most likely, you're wondering why a person such as myself has bothered to write you a letter at all. Merely by my own vast popularity on the latest character rankings, this level of reasoning is possible for Furudo Erika~ Doubtless, you must be thinking I have far better things to do with my time than deign to speak with a person such as yourself- and that is certainly correct, o-or…

Kuuu….

W-well, i-it would be true… … i-if that dried-up dishcloth of a witch didn't keep taking my Master from me… …!

B-but, n-no matter… It just so happens that I do have… a little bit of time to spare… so, think nothing of it…

As it transpires, my Master has read your tales, too, so I felt it would be best if I also read them, given my Master has such refined tastes in literature. However, I am very disappointeeeed with these stories- and I know my Master was, too. Considering these tales are based on a mystery story, there aren't any mysteries in them at aaaaaaall; apart from maybe how your writing hasn't improved at aaaall, even though you've written such a great amount!

It's useless, so useless- what a waste! Mystery stories are the ultimate form of literature; a beautiful battle of wits between author and reader- really, they are incredible! Other tales pale in comparison; and that's definitely true here.

Humph. I find it especially insulting that, even though a handful of these stories feature myself as a main character, I never get to fulfill my role as a detective! Instead, you waste time writing about my, pft, _family situation_- something that was never mentioned before! I know this is not a mystery story, and that useless murder doll isn't here to state it in red for me, but according to Knox a mystery story must have clues _clearly presented to the reader at an early stage in the proceedings. _All this nonsense about what family I may or may not have has never mentioned before; you're making it all up! Can't you focus on the facts of my character that are really _there_ in the source material, rather than twisting my back story around for your own entertainment?

Ahem… furthermore, I, Furudo Erika, am the detective! A detective doesn't need to have a long and complex back story- they just need to _detect_! That is my role! Did your little grey cells not grasp this? If you're going to write about me at all, remember _who I am_.

Ah… Honestly, you really are useless. I don't know why I'm wasting my time with such a person. Any mystery story you wrote would only be third rate, anyway. Even Lady Lambdadelta could craft a more interesting mystery tale than you.

How foolish.

Yours sincerely,  
>Furudo Erika, <em>the detective<em>

* * *

><p>Aaaah! It's not fair, it's not fair at aaaall! I used to be one of the most popular characters in this series, you know! Aaah, it's only since the appearance of that useless magical detective girl that my popularity dropped so much- a-all because she wears a school swimsuit, a-and those twin tails, that knee length skirt; aaaah…! I'm a more interesting character, though! I <strong>am<strong>! I hate her! I really, really hate her! Why doesn't she just bite her bellybutton and die?

Hey, hey, _Renahhchen_ *giggles* If you appreciate how wonderful I, Eva-Beatrice, the Golden Witch, am, then you'll write a lot, lot more tales about myself than on that annoying brat, won't you? You will, right? You wi~ill, _riiiiiiiiight_?

*giggle giggle giggle* kyahahaha…!~~

Mou… besides… … the Eva-culprit theory is losing a little bit of support… humph… even though it's so exciting… I suppose the poor, tortured Ushiromiya Eva, shooting that fat sack of lard in the forehead and then crying over his corpse, isn't sad enough, huuuuuh? So, somehow, people have started to say that _Battler _is the culprit instead! That incompetent idiot who couldn't tie up his shoelaces until he was twelve and gets scared of boats and planes! I bet he would've last five seconds being danced around in the sky like a beautiful butterfly with me, he wouldn't at all- but the stupid look on his face would be a looooot of fun to watch! I want to watch it! I want to watch it! Kyahahahahahahaha!~~~

So, moou… what I'm saying iiis, if you don't want to be crushed by a pile of rare cheeses and chocolates, or crunchcracksnapchomped up by some of that old granny's shabby, ugly, un-cute old goat furniture, then you should write a story where I, Eva-Beatrice, confronts that hi~de~ous, laugh~a~ble personification of the Battler culprit theory, ooookaaaaaay? He's stealing my fanbaaaaase, he's stealing iiiit, and I won't forgive him! I seriously won't forgive him!

Cute magical girls in pretty dresses are loooot more popular than those cheap stock eeeeeevil protagonist plot twists, aren't they? They have to be!

I'm going to remind that cute little kid of just how much he's scared of heights!~ Kyahaha!~ Do you want to play with me, my cute nephew? Let's play, let's play- but watch out for the iron railings! I'll paint a brand new, blood red story on Rokkenjima, all with the wonderful, pop and cuuuute Eva culprit theory! Aaaaaaah, it sounds like fun! It sounds like lo~ots and lo~ots of fun!

I can't wait to get started~~~

* * *

><p>Yo, <em>Renahh<em>.

Mm… ihihi… I suppose I should introduce myself- but no introduction is needed, _surely_? Even so, it would be good manners to give my name; and I might be many things, but I would never be _rude_; not to a lady~

My name is Ushiromiya Battler. However… ahaha…~ I'm probably _not _the 'Ushiromiya Battler' you are thinking of. It's complicated, but… hn. Let us say that I am the 'Ushiromiya Battler' desired by the people of the future… and, of course… people like you, who write such _charming _stories about my… ah… exploits. Heh. Perhaps you know me better as Culprit Battler… ihihihi~

I really must thank you for writing a handful of stories about me. Speculation such as this is, after all, how I am able to maintain my existence; and it is how I am able, even know, to hold this pen between my fingertips and write this letter to you. I would be most ungracious if I did not offer my _heartfelt _words of gratitude towards you for this.

Just ensure you continue to craft these beautiful tales of tragedy and despair in my name, alright?~ Rokkenjima is my stage, the pathetic humans are my supporting cast, and together, we will create a beautiful symphony of howls and moans and wonderful, _incredible _screams to split the night sky~ Rokkenjima is a witch's island no more- and not even the seagulls are permitted to watch as I ascend to the highest levels of madness, the darkest realms of cruelty, and play with my captive pieces in their prison forever and ever, for all eternity~

The look of pain on Jessica's face as her poor, _poor _Kanon is slaughtered in shower of blood and breaking bones before her very eyes…

The tears running down Rosa's face as her Maria, her daughter, is limp in her arms with eyes blank and empty, just like a fish on a chopping board…

The sweet, sweet, soft moans from Shannon as her face is splattered with George's blood, his entrails pulled out and strewn sloppily, stickily, stretching from one end of the rose garden to another- as I pull the poor, broken, beaten beauty in my arms and whisper false words of comfort in her ears… …

Heheheheh~

The look of betrayal in that old bastard's eyes, right before I claw them out and he starts to cry blood…

_Battler… the culprit… it was really you… …?_

Ihihihi~ Sorry. It's what the public want. You're just like the theatergoing witches, right? All after a good show. A blood-splattered golden show time~ Well, I'm the best actor there is… so please, watch, and enjoy the tale of madness and despair I am going to weave…

Mmm… aaaahn… … … haaaa… … …~

Ihihihihahahahahaha!~

-Ushiromiya Battler

P.S. If you hear from that bitch Furudo Eriblah, or my poor, deranged Aunt Eva who _still _thinks she can wear an embarrassing outfit like that and pretend to be a witch at age 50, please tell them I'm going to enjoy killing them, too~ It's al~ways more fun when they try to act tough at first… …

The sound of their screams, filling the night, under the moon…

Aaaah…

There's something quite poetic about it, really… …

P.P.S. Please forgive the red stains on this letter. I was eating something a little bit _messy_, you see, and it splattered everywhere~ I hope you don't mind... ihihihi~

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Ehe, these first person 'reviews' are a lot of fun to write ^^'' Culprit Battler is a lot of ridiculous, over the top, narmy good fun XD


	276. Blonde haired monster

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #276: Blonde-haired monster

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bern~ I've been wondering..."<p>

"What?" asked Bernkastel, blinking dispassionately at Lambdadelta; their faces inches apart. "Please do tell me every single inane thought you've ever had; I truly am desperate to hear them."

"Hehe~ I knew you would be, Beeern~" cooed Lambda, her voice sugar sweet. Being incessantly cheery and utterly oblivious 24/7 was the best way of dealing with Bern's less than pleasant nature, after all. "This is something really, really serious, though! It's even more terrible than Virgilia's mackerel stew!"

Bern pursed her lips slightly at this; whether from irritation or amusement, it was difficult to tell. Bernkastel was the kind of girl who should've come with an instruction manual, mused Lambda, because half of the time it difficult to decode what her blank stares, slight twitches or deadpan comments actually meant.

Heh, that was okay, though~ Lambda, despite her appearance, was pretty patient, and she liked taking the time to figure out the real meaning behind every single little one of Bern's reactions- just like a medical student carefully and precisely cutting into a cadaver and exposing all the little bones and blood vessels and tendons. It was a del~i~cate procedure; but Lambdadelta could carry it out like no other.

After all, she was the one who knew Bernkastel the best.

"You see, Bern, it's terrible, just terrible!" the Witch of Certainty continued in earnest, linking her gloved fingers with Bern's. "Here I am, a cute and adorable witch with a smile brighter than a round of fireworks on New Year's Eve, with the best skills at rock paper scissors, the most unique dress sense and lots of sweet, sugary candy-filled pheromones of youth and beauty and young girls' love exuding from my every pore at e~ve~ry second, but... b-but, aaaaaah..."

And this was when Lambdadelta decided she should cry.

Just a little bit.

With a loud, over-dramatic 'uwaaaaahhh!', coupled with sniffs and snuffles and a runny nose to boot, the great Lady Lambdadelta, the best actress to ever grace the earth, buried her head in Bern's ample chest.

"You're getting my dress wet," said Bern; though there was no real emotion in her voice. It was just an observation.

"I-I know, Bern, but..." Sniff, sniff, hic. "U-uwaah...! I-I'm really really cute, aren't I? I'm the most adorable! S-so, i-it's not fair... W-why... why don't I have a huge harem of attractive guys and cute girls chasing after me, desperate to lick up my strawberry flavored blood or nibble on my cotton candy cheeks? Why don't I have a harem? Why, why, why?"

"...Because this is reality, not a harem game," was Bernkastel's response. She pulled a face. "You really are ridiculous, Lambda. Being pursued by one idiot is enough. If there were fifty idiots, however... ... Urgh. If I was in such a cliché situation, my cute kitties would have lots of new people to sharpen their claws on."

"Aaah! That's just because you don't know how to talk to people, Bern! You don't know how to appreciate of the attention!"

"I don't want the attention."

"But it's fun!" was Lambda's instant response. "I want to be loved and revered by everybody, like an idol! I-I want it! I-I want it! U-uwaaaah!"

Sniff, sniff, hic.

More tears.

More snot.

At least Lambdadelta's snot was kind of cute. Just as her blood was made of strawberry sauce and her brains bit of cotton candy, it tasted distinctly of vanilla.

...Not that Bernkastel had ever tasted it. Pickled plum tea, at 200 yen a pack, was far classier.

Still sniffling, Lambdadelta then muttered under her breath, "A-ah... i-it's not faaair! I-I mean... hm... Maybe I could start a route with Battler, since he likes girls with blonde hair, but-"

"What."

At Lambdadelta's statement, Bernkastel froze. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Before, she had been carelessly allowing Lambda to cling to her, neither pulling the witch closer or resisting her embrace- but now, one of Bern's hands went under Lambda's chin, raising her head.

Their eyes met. Lambda's were dewy with tears, shining like jewels. Bern's, meanwhile, were curiously empty- but her brows were narrowed slightly. She was even scowling.

"Why are you talking about that idiot?" asked Bernkastel coldly. "Why should you care what Ushiromiya Battler thinks of you? It's foolish. He's foolish."

"Yes, but he likes blonde girls! There aren't so many blonde girls around here, I think… And my boobs aren't as big as Beato's, but they're not non-existent! At least I am a girl! No, not just a girl…" Lambda puffed her chest out proudly; a silly smile on her face eerily reminiscent of Chiester 410's (urgh. Just thinking of that foolish bunny girl made Bernkastel's tail twitch in irritation). "After I have won over Battler's affections with my girlish charms and sweet scent, I'll become a real lady! Oh ho ho ho!~ I'm sure my sugary sweet candy pheromones will lure him in, and then by the time he's in my arms he won't even notice that I'm not Beato! It's a foolproof plan! I can use my hair color to my advantage and secure a perfect victory! What do you think, Bern? Bern? … … Beeeern?~"

But Bernkastel didn't reply.

Her face had contorted into a very, very ugly expression indeed.

It looked like jealousy.

It was… most likely 'jealousy'.

Ehehehe...~ It looked like this was going to get pretty interesting.

* * *

><p>It was a fairly normal, peaceful day in Purgatorio. And, of course, an opening line such as that could only herald disaster.<p>

"Aaah! What the hell has happened to me?"

"Me too, Luci- me too!"

"I-is this somebody's idea of a prank? I-it's not funny... a-aaah, n-now I look just as stupid as Asmo!"

"K-kyaa...? I'm not stupid, am I?"

The Seven Sisters of Purgatory were all in panic… 'All' excepting Asmodeus and Beelzebub, however, who were fine. Their appearances hadn't changed at all. As for the other sisters, though…

Well.

They had all awoken to discover a very small change in their genetic make-up; a tiny one- but a change none the less. It was not so drastic as growing extra fingers, or feathers, or even swapping species- and nobody had become a mineral or a plant; but this small alteration was so strange, and so very noticeable, that they couldn't help but squeal in alarm as they stared at their reflections.

I-it was…

It was their _hair_.

Somehow, they had all become _blonde_.

And it didn't stop there. The same was also true for Virgilia- and, not that the denizens of Purgatorio knew, but every single member of the Chiester Sisters Imperial Guard Corps, and the girls of Eiserene Jungfrau, too. Not even Ronove had been spared from this little piece of bizarre magic.

The only one unscathed was Battler himself.

"Ihihi... Well, this is pretty interesting," he said, with a small smirk, as he sipped a cup of Ronove's tea. "It looks like some deity from the heavens heard my pleas, and decided to bless me with a whole harem of cute, big-boobed blonde girls. Aaah, I'm in heaven. I'm seriously in heaven. Ihihi~"

"Thank you very much for your kind compliments, Battler," said Ronove, with a small laugh. "I am glad my appearance is now more suited to your preferences."

"Heh. Yeah. Don't be too quick to count yourself in that equation just yet. You're still a guy, you know."

"Ah. My, my. How foolish of me to forget. Perhaps, in my joy, I was slightly over-hasty. Pu ku ku~"

Battler rolled his eyes, setting his teacup back down on the saucer. "Still, something like this is kind of weird. I wonder how it happened..."

"Most likely it was a trick played by some restless demon. These kinds of things are not entirely unheard of," said Ronove, with a small chuckle. "Hm... Perhaps it was a demon who had a similar preference for blonde hair just as yourself. How interesting... Pu ku ku…~"

* * *

><p>"Ufufufu…~ Good luck trying to catch that idiot's eye now, Lambda. It looks like you have some competition now…~ Ahaha…~"<p>

Bernkastel tilted her head to one side; her own blonde hair now cascading over her shoulders- nearly dipping into the contents of her teacup, though she was careful to avoid such a foolish mistake.

"Ahaha~ Well, perhaps I went a little bit too far… … but frivolous acts such as this are amusing every once in a while. Certainly, I can't get bored with that girl around… ufufufufu…~"

Tea really did taste best when sampled alongside success.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This is my reasoning as to why nearly all of the Ougon palette swaps give the characters blonde hair and I'm going to stick with it XD


	277. Rosa's white pony

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #277: Rosa's white pony

* * *

><p>"Uu, uu! Incredible! Battler is incredible!"<p>

"That's right, I am incredible!" said Battler proudly, with a foolish grin on his face. "It's nice to get the respect I finally deserve, ihihi~ That old bastard isn't exactly liberal when it comes to praise."

"The only people I feel like praising are attractive women. When it comes to tall, gangly brats like you, I don't have a single kind word to spare. It'd be a waste," Rudolf retorted, with a dry smirk.

"Heh? Is that so~oo?~ Well, I'm pretty curious noow~ Who are all these attractive women you've been complimenting, hmm? I bet Kyrie is pre~tty interested too, ihihi~"

"Yes, that's quite right~" said Kyrie lightly. There was a pleasant smile on her face, but the aura around her could only be described as glacial. Kyrie was incredibly talented at reigning in her facial expressions so she appeared calm- but even soft, gentle words from her could make a grown man shudder from head to toe, whilst holding a protective hand over his groin. "Like Battler, I am also curious about the identities of these attractive women who deserve my husband's praise… Would you care to elaborate on this very interesting story, Rudolf?"

The tremor that ran through Rudolf was unmistakable; so much so that it even made Maria, still held in Battler's arms, giggle.

"A-aah, Kyrie! The only woman in my life is you, you know? I-I wouldn't be so foolish to incur your wrath, ahahaha... I don't think my body could take any of your punishments!"

"Hm. Well, that's certainly lucky for you. For this, I'd give you a punishment far worse than merely stretching your ears~"

"A-ahaha... yeah... I-I don't doubt it..."

Battler laughed at this, and Maria joined in- though she didn't really understand what was so funny. Uncle Rudolf was a kind person who always told jokes, though, so Maria was sure the conversation was about something funny.

"Ihihi~ Well, it's not like I need that old man's seal of approval," said Battler brightly, as he continued to twirl Maria about; holding the young girl tightly in his arms. "Maria thinks I'm cool, right?"

"Yes! Amazing! Mama never picks me up like this! Fun, fun! Uu, uu!"

"Uu, uu!~" Battler echoed. "Heheh~ Now you can fly through the sky, right, just a plane!"

"No, no! Not plane, not plane! Like a golden butterfly! Like Beatrice!"

"Hm? Beatrice...?"

"The witch of Rokkenjima! She can turn into butterflies and fly through the sky! Soon, Maria will learn, too! Maria will fly! Uu, uu!"

"Heheh~ Well, study hard for that, I guess- but if you don't manage to grow your own pair of golden wings, you're always welcome to have a flight with the Battler International Airlines~ I'm pretty strong, see? Something like this is easy for me!"

"Uu, uu! Gonna fly with Battler, gonna fly! Kyakyakya!~"

"Hehe. That's a nice scene," said Rosa, smiling. "Battler, you might be a lot older since I saw you last- but it seems you can still play with Maria like this. Hehe~"

"E-eh? What's that supposed to mean, Aunt Rosa? Are you saying I haven't matured much mentally, is that iiit?"

"W-well, am I saying that? I wonder... Those words never left my mouth! Ahaha!~"

"Heh. You don't need to be polite, Rosa. Just say it straight," said Rudolf- trying to stealthily join a new conversation and regain some of his pride, after Kyrie had teasingly pulled his ear for supposed liaisons with imaginary girls. "That kid might have the body of a giant, but his mind hasn't really grown with it. All he thinks of is food and pretty girls. There's nothing else in that skull but empty space."

"Oh really?~ But, that's not too surprising if he shares your blood... I distinctly remember you were like that as a teenager too, Rudolf~" said Rosa, her voice light and sing-song; an unusually mischievous smile on her face.

"Heh. And I remember, when you were a kid, you used to cling to your pervert of a big brother," Rudolf retorted, also smiling. Waving one hand in Battler and Maria's direction, he said, "Doesn't that scene look a little familiar?"

"Hm... Well, that was a long while ago- but I think I can recall something like that happening? You always used to carry me around. Usually when you wanted to look good in front of girls."

"Heh. It wasn't just that. You were a pretty cute kid; it was fun playing around with you. Too bad you've gotten big now," said Rudolf, unable to stop himself ruffling Rosa's hair. Even at this age, when they were both adults with children, Rosa would always be that little girl with the pigtails to Rudolf. "I don't think I could pick you up like that anymore."

Rosa pouted, playfully hitting Rudolf's hands away from her head.

"Oh? It looks like your skills at flirting have deteriorated with your handsome looks, too. Are you calling me fat, Rudolf?"

"Hihi, no~oo way; nothing of the sort~ My little sis has aged incredibly well. You're still just as cute as ever- albeit, with a slightly more poisonous tongue... hihi~ I just don't think my back would be up to it. I can't clown around like that brat anymore," said Rudolf; gesturing, once more, to Battler and Maria. "And Kyrie might get jealous if I'm that close to another woman, hihi~"

"I am your sister, you know. I don't think Kyrie would mind."

"Yeah, but you're still pretty cute- and taboo relationships like that are pretty popular now, right? Hihihi...~"

"E-eh? H-how do you know something like that? Have you been reading weird stuff again? A-aren't you too old to be interested in those kind of lewd things?"

"Hihi~ Hey, I'm only up to date with subtle trends in society 'cause of Battler. It's not my fault he's abysmally bad at hiding his... interesting magazines and manga... hihi~"

"Oi, be quiet, you smug bastard!" Battler shouted at Rudolf. "You're giving Maria a bad impression of me. And I'm not just a pervert, you know. I'm a chivalrous knight, ihihi~ I'm carrying fair Lady Maria, aren't I?"

"Uu, uu! Battler's my horse, uu!"

"Hehe~ And he's in a white suit, too..." said Rosa, smiling. "Isn't that nice, Maria? It's every girl's dream to have a white pony."

"Heh?~ Every girl's? And what about you, Aunt Rosa?"

"Hn? Me?" Rosa's eyes widened slightly; a small frown capturing her lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing... I just heard that old man talking- and I thought it was pretty pathetic he couldn't even carry somebody like you. I bet you're as light as a feather. I'm sure I could pick you up, no problem! That is, if you want... just for fun. Ihihi~ Maybe it's unfair Maria gets so much attention when I haven't had a chance to speak to my kind Aunt Rosa, too. A real gentleman doesn't neglect a lady, right? Heheh~"

"H-hm? R-really? But, I... well..." Rosa looked down at the floor, slightly flustered for some reason- t-though that certainly wasn't because this was the first time in several years a man had offered to act like a prince for her; certainly not... "I-I don't know... I'm not a child like Maria, so, um-"

But Rosa's feeble excuses were soon ended by a soft _tup_ sound, as Battler set Maria back down on the floor.

"Uu! I wanna see!" said Maria, hands on hips. "I wanna see Battler pick up Mama! See if you can, uu, uu! Then Mama can fly, too! Kihihihi!"

"Heh, yeah, why don't you go ahead and try, you gangly brat," said Rudolf, laughing, as he clapped Battler on the shoulder. "Then we'll see how much of a gentleman you are when you fall on your ass."

"Hm? You think I, Ushiromiya Battler, would fall over? I'm gonna prove you wrong, old man!" Battler declared dramatically; stabbing a finger in Rudolf's direction. Rosa swore his tie started to flutter at that motion- though there was no breeze that would facilitate such a thing. "Come on, Aunt Rosa! Let's prove him wrong! Don't you wanna get back at him for being annoying?"

"A-ah, well... i-if this is... to prove Rudolf wrong... then something childish like this is… maybe… … alright? I-if this will wipe that smile off my big brother's face, then I'd do anything. That's the resolve of a younger sister. Alright then, Battler...~ Would you care to carry me?"

"Ihihi~ I'd be my pleasure."

And, in the end... it turned out that Rudolf had been wrong.

Battler, thanks to his increased height and strength, picked up Rosa easily, bridal style; holding the older woman in his arms, just as tightly as he had held Maria. And, although Rosa's face was flushed slightly, and she had to bury her head in Battler's chest from embarrassment when Rudolf and Eva started to catcall and playfully poke fun of them... she couldn't deny it.

She hadn't been held by anybody like this for so long... because she was an adult, wasn't she? She had to deal with her own problems. Nobody else wanted to support her.

But... a-ahaha... ...

When Battler held her like this...

She couldn't help but smile.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible that she didn't have a man in her life… when she at least had her family- who, even though they had made her life miserable as a child… weren't so horrible _all _the time.


	278. Soup of the day

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #278: Soup of the day

* * *

><p>"And they all lived happily ever after. The end."<p>

A light_ thud_ interspaced the relative silence as Ushiromiya Ange closed the thick, leather-bound book of fairytales resting in her lap. That noise surely disturbed the peace of Featherine's jumbled, disorganized living room, which had been silent as the grave; excepting, of course, the monotonous drone of Ange's listless, uninterested voice, and the quiet but constant _tick tick tick_ of the grandfather clock in the background that, no matter how long and how steadfastly it counted the depletion of time, never once heralded the arrival of a fresh hour.

During the previous story Ange had been reading, Featherine had slipped from her plush, claw-footed chair, and had taken her rest upon the floor. Lying on her back, black hair fanning out behind her like seaweed on a sandy beach, hands clasped at her front and a dreamy expression on her face, eyes closed and a tranquil smile on her face, she looked a little like she had fallen into an enchanted slumber; just like the princess Aurora in the fairytale Ange had been reading to her.

Ange's left eye twitched slightly in irritation.

What a rude witch. Hadn't she ever been told she should pay attention when others were addressing her? That was a little rule Eva had almost beaten Ange over the head with when she was a child.

Ha. Aunt Eva would have had a _field day _digging into this idle witch. Ange would have paid to see something like that. Maybe she'd eat popcorn as she observed, too.

Sharply, Ange said, in her best Aunt Eva-ish tones, "If you were asleep during that tale I did not want to read to you in the first place I'm going to be irritated. For the host of this... strange tea party... you're not exactly polite."

Even though Featherine was a great witch, Ange slipped off her own plush chair (which would have been comfier had the upholstery not been falling apart), set the book of fairytales to one side, and carelessly jabbed the sleeping(?) witch in the cheek with one of her fingers.

Ange had been subjected to the whims of cruel witches too often to find them frightening anymore. Instead, she viewed Featherine with a kind of contempt; eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

She might have been a witch, but she was horribly self-centred and selfish, too; just like a child who always wanted their own way. Ange couldn't respect a person like that- even if Featherine had appointed herself as Ange's master.

That was probably why Featherine found Ange so amusing, though.

"Hn... e-ehehe...~ What an impudent little miko."

With a soft giggle Featherine lightly cracked her eyes open; coal lashes fluttering, lips red as rubies curving into a soft, sweet smile.

"Ehe...~ Well, it's not as though I dislike strong-willed girls like you," she continued, musing. "You're very interesting; even though you could have read that tale with slightly more enthusiasm. But perhaps such a thing goes against your character type... Hehe~"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ange stiffly, "and if you weren't listening to me, then reading to you was a pointless task. I dislike doing pointless things. It annoys me."

"Hee~ Don't worry your little head, my cute miko. I was listening."

"You looked like you were sleeping."

"Oh my? Did it really? I _do_ apologize. I was closing my eyes to block out any external factors, so I could properly visualize the tale. I was immersing myself in your web of words, you see. Take it as a compliment."

"I don't want to take anything a creepy person like you says as a compliment."

"Well, suit yourself~ I assumed you would say something like that anyway, my quaint little miko."

Giggle, giggle.

Ange sighed; unable, or maybe she just had no real desire, to keep up with this odd woman. It was giving her a headache; and the thick, lavender incense that permeated the room, no doubt acting as icing sugar to obscure the more prevalent, pungent odors of rot and decay, was making even her feel like curling up to have a nap beside the still sleepily smiling Featherine. She wouldn't give in to such a temptation, though. She didn't trust Featherine as far as she could throw her- and, given the large bulk of her very pink dress, Ange was sure that would not be very far.

Clenching her fists together, digging her nails into her skin, the young girl tried to keep herself wary and alert.

She still had one question she wanted to ask, after all.

A very, very important question.

"Why did you make me read such a story to you, anyway? What relation does it have to my big brother?"

There was a brief pause; filled with the _tick tick tick_ of the scratched and worn clock that never reached twelve; the air almost audibly swirling with the overwhelming scent of that flowery incense.

Featherine blinked up at Ange, with half-lidded eyes.

"Hee..." the witch made a small noise of amusement; smiling. "Such a sweet child of man, to be so completely duped...~"

"…Duped?"

"Yes~" Giggle, giggle. "Hn. You see... This fairytale had no relevance to your big brother at all."

"... ..._What_?"

The smile on Featherine's face was so beautiful it made Ange want to scribble on it with a marker pen.

"I only wanted you to read it because I myself grew tired of listening to the same tale for so long," Featherine explained cheerfully. "It was... a small diversion, I suppose. A happy distraction. Just like a soup course between the entrées and the main meal. But you read the tale so very nicely, my miko, it was a joy and a pleasure to listen to you. I feel very refreshed now~"

Silence.

And then, "... ... ...I hate you."

"Ehehe~ Thank you very much."

Ange rolled her eyes.

She looked distinctly unimpressed.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Ange and Featherine interaction for _Zatroopa_. I hope you like it ^^


	279. A bunny girl style of bonding

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #279: A bunny girl style of bonding

* * *

><p>"A-aah...? W-what... what the hell is this?"<p>

"Nyeheheh!~ III certainly don't know~ Nihihi~"

"N-ngh... hngh... ... Y-you! T-this was all your fault, isn't it? W-why... why would you play such a childish prank on me, the oldest of the Seven Sisters of Purgatory, furniture to the great Lady Beatr-aah… aah… a-achoo!"

Lucifer, the oldest of the Seven Stakes of Purgatory, and currently the wettest and most miserable as well, sneezed miserably. It happened so fast she didn't have enough time to elegantly put her hand over her mouth; and nor was she able to hide the little bubble of snot that popped about her right nostril. At this, her face turned a horrible shade of crimson, and she let out a horrible wail of embarrassment.

She'd already been feeling sick all morning. This was something she _definitely_ did not need.

Lucifer's long, sleek black hair wasn't so beautiful or well-kempt as usual. Instead, it was sodden; stuck about her flushed cheeks and clinging limply about her shoulders like pond weed. Droplets of moistures rolled down her nose, her cheeks, her neck. Her uniform, once so pristine and neatly ironed (for Lucifer took great pride in her appearance), was marred with large damp patches that turned the red material a darker burgundy. The swim suit portion of her strange uniform, meanwhile, clung almost indecently to every curve of her body. She looked as though she had just been caught in a downpour- and if one assumed that, they wouldn't have been entirely wrong.

A certain _somebody_ had created a trap that dumped a bucket of water on Lucifer's head when she opened her bedroom door, after all.

Of course, there was no guarantee the trap would be activated, given Lucifer could teleport on most occasions- but that was what made traps so fun to begin with; to see who would get hit by them, and if they would get hit at all. The less than 100% success rate made this kind of thing more enjoyable. Beatrice would surely have agreed.

And who had set that trap?

"Nyeheheh~ Aaah, Lucifer looks so cuuuute when she's all wet like that!~ Being drenched from head to toe just makes pretty girls even prettier, right? Riiiight?~ You'll be sure to get a huge fan club when people see you looking like this!~ Nihihi!~"

...How many other people in Purgatorio had an annoying, obnoxious laugh like that, anyway?

Not to mention the bunny ears.

It made Lucifer want to claw Chiester 410's stupid smiling grin right off her stupid, foul, loathsome, abhorrent, repellent, hideous ugly stupid stupid _stupid_ face!

"I-I... You... I-I, I… C-chee..."

Shuddering from the combined effects of cold, sickness and embarrassment, the trembling Lucifer wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve; wincing in disgust at how unbecoming such an action was. It was either that or spend the rest of this conversation with snot dripping from her nostril, though- which was a distinctly more unattractive idea than doing something rude like this for a few seconds to rectify the problem.

Even so, this... d-doing something so... inelegant, it... i-it... ... i-it...

Urgh... …

"I-I... I-I really, really hate you!" she shouted; fingers balling into fists, as she glared hatefully at the smirking Chiester 410. "You're so annoying! All the time, you always play these kinds of s-stupid tricks on me... a-and... why? Why? I am furniture to Lady Beatrice, you should be more respectful! You're only furniture to an apprentice witch, s-so I am higher level than you; yes, that's right! I-I am older, far more refined furniture, a-and I deserve to be treated properly, I-I deserve some respect, I, I... a-aa... achoo...!"

Lucifer's face turned redder and redder. Why did her sneezes have to be so loud and stupid-sounding?

The amused look on Chiester 410's face wasn't helping.

"Nihihi~ I tease you because I love you, Luci~feeer~ We're bonding, right? Right?~ It's because I play such cute jokes on you that we're able to have such honest and open conversations, isn't iiiit?~ Now I know what your truthful feelings towards me really are! I feel so happy I get to see this side of you, it's such an honor! Nihihihi~"

"W-what... h-hngh..." Sniff, sniff. "W-what the hell are you talking about? W-we don't have 'honest conversations'! You just... m-make me want to kill you!"

"Nyeheh~ But that's how bonding woo~rks~ Best friends annoy each other all the time, riiight?"

"W-we're not best friends! You make me so angry, I-I just, I- ah.. a-ah... ... h-hau..."

Lucifer bit down on her lower lip, resolutely trying not to sneeze again. She wouldn't give Chiester 410 the satisfaction. She wouldn't. She would master her own base impulses, and then they would see who was laughing in the end, a-ahahaha-

"A-achoo... ...!"

"Nihihi~ Cuute, so cuute!~ Luci is so cuute when she gets flustered!~"

And with that loud proclamation, Chiester 410 pulled Lucifer into a very tight, rather damp hug.

Lucifer whimpered. She didn't even have enough strength to try and claw that bunny's skin off. But that wasn't because she liked being hugged or anything- a-and, certainly, she hated all this 'attention', which Chiester 410 falsely mislabelled as 'friendship'.

She hated it.

She just wanted to go back to bed and forget this day had ever happened.


	280. A fan girl always looks with love

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #280: A fan girl always looks with love (even at things that aren't really there)

* * *

><p>"Maria! Hey, Maria! Look at this!"<p>

"Uu? What is it?" asked Maria, abandoning her fun game with Sakutaro and Asmodeus to look at Beatrice.

"I found something very... interesting... ... in Teacher's room this morning," Beatrice explained. "… …Hm. I've never seen anything like this before? What is it, I wonder?"

Beato was staring at a very curious book opened on the table before her; perusing it with great interest, fingers flipping the pages too quickly to take any of the information in properly. Her blue eyes were wide, filled with a desperate desire to learn more that looked almost childish- even on a great witch such as herself.

Maria's own eyes lit up with interest at the sight. Her curiosity was piqued in moments.

Maria didn't like reading books at school very much. She only enjoyed fantasy stories, the Bible, or anything pertaining to the occult- and they didn't have many of those at school. She had to read boring text books instead. Occult books were hard to find, too. Even when Maria went to the local library, Sakutaro's head peeking out of her knapsack, and she searched around for thick books on the druids, ancient ceremonies or magic, the librarians would always claim such books weren't really suitable for a young girl like herself, and maybe she should get her mother's permission before she checked them out?

Of course, given Rosa's stance on magic, that wasn't really possible.

Beato, however, had lots of books, and she often shared them with Maria, or helped her interpret them. Beato knew some things about magic, and Maria knew some other things, and they mixed their knowledge together (just like combining cola and orange juice!), and then they helped each other! Uu uu!

It was always fun when they perused Kinzo's books in the beautiful Golden Land, sipping cups of tea and eating cakes or pastries; talking and laughing and smiling and discussing their own theories and interpretations.

Even when they tired of that, though, the fun didn't stop. Then they could play around with Sakutaro and the Seven Sisters, sometimes the Chiester Imperial Guard Corps, or Virgilia, and even Gaap or Ronove too! Gaap, Virgilia and Ronove knew a lot about magic as well, so they would also help decipher the meanings of the magic circles and Hebrew inscriptions when Beato or Maria couldn't. It always got very noisy- but that noise was a testament to what a good time everyone was having.

Maria couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of spending another fun day learning more and more about the wonderful world of witches together with Beatrice, whom she loved and admired very much.

"Uu! A book Beato's Teacher has? I bet it's filled with all kinds of incredible magic, uu, uu!"

"Ku... kukuku... W-well, it certainly is 'incredible'," said Beatrice, with a small laugh. "I-I've really never seen anything like it! Come and look, my cute disciple; let's unravel this mystery together, shall we? Ufufufu~"

"Yaaay!~ Gonna read with Bea~to, gonna read!"

And with that happy proclamation, Maria leapt to her feet and ran over to Beatrice's side. Standing on the very tips of her tiny toes, Maria peeped over Beato's shoulder; her little face shining, eyes brimful with anticipation and-

"Ooh... ... u-uu... ...? W-what's this? What's this? Uuu?"

How… h-how strange…!

This book certainly wasn't like any magical tome filled with arcane arts Maria had ever seen before; and it didn't look like the kind of thing Kinzo would read. For a start, it wasn't nearly as old. The paper wasn't brown or curled at the corners, or covered in reams of Kinzo's own crabbed handwriting that he seemed to believe was important, but Beatrice always scorned as foolish and worthless. There were no notes and annotations at all. Evidently, Virgilia took better care of her books than Kinzo. This book wasn't as thick as Kinzo's grimoires, either. It was very, very thin; only about one hundred and fifty pages.

It didn't have very much writing, either.

Instead, each and every page was filled with pictures.

Pictures of very handsome, attractive young men, with sharp eyes and sharper haircuts.

Maria thought she recognized this kind of book- even though Beato was staring at it confusedly, her head tilted to one side.

"Hm..." Beatrice pondered. "This truly is an interesting book to find in Teacher's possession... but I can't quite understand it? What is its purpose? It doesn't look as though it is trying to inform... Rather, it is telling... ... a story? But it's not a fairytale... Muu… It doesn't look like an fairytale I've ever seen, at least… …?"

Maria couldn't help but giggle at Beato's confusion. Beatrice acted like such a grand, regal figure- but there were lots of things she didn't know about, and it always made Maria happy that she could share her knowledge of the outside world with Beato like this, in a friendly manner.

If Beato knew everything, then Maria might have been a little intimidated. It was because Beato didn't know everything that Maria was able to be her friend, not just her apprentice.

"Uu! Maria knows, Maria knows!" said Maria proudly, with a small smile. "It's not a grimoire at all! It's manga!"

"... ...Manga?"

"A story told with pictures, uu, uu! Maria likes reading them sometimes. Maria likes the series about Card Master Sakura!"

"Sakura... ...?"

"Yes! It's about a cute girl with lots of pretty dresses who can use magic, uu! Has a cute lion friend like Saku~ta~ro, uu! It's very popular with young girls! Maria really likes it! Mama likes it, too! She says it's cute- the kind of thing a young girl should read! Uu, uu!"

Realization slowly dawned on Beato's face.

"Oh? Is that what a 'manga' is? A story told with pictures? I see, I see... My, how varied and entertaining different forms of storytelling can be! Oh ho ho!~" And Beatrice laughed proudly, smiling, like a child who had finally understood a complex math problem. "Oh, but, this manga doesn't look like Card Master Sakura? I don't see any magical witch girls or cute outfits…?"

Maria shook her head. "No, it doesn't. Has more men in it. Uu, uu."

"Hm... It looks like this is some kind of romance story? Ufufu~ Is this how love stories are told in modern times?" asked Beatrice, cackling. "Perhaps Romeo and Juliet has become outdated? Oh ho ho~ Humans really aren't static creatures at all. Their advancements always amuse and surprise me. Oooh?~ What's this, what's this?"

Beatrice turned another page, eagerly this time- and was confronted by a two page illustration of two boys... kissing, was it?

H-hao...

Beato's face turned light pink.

"Heh... ufufu... that's quite cute... ..."

"Uu! Pretty art," Maria said appreciatively. "Really pretty. Those boys look kind of like girls, uu, uu!"

"Hm, yes... They do, don't they? Maybe- oh... Ah, no wait." Another turn of the page soon revealed the truth. "Hm. I guess they were both men after all. Kuhihihi~ W-well, that's pretty interesting too~ It certainly doesn't bore me! This kind of thing is perhaps even more refreshing than a cup of milky tea before bed time! Ahaha, I wonder why Teacher has a book like this, though?"

"Uu. Don't know," said Maria casually, with a small shrug. She giggled. "Kihihi~ But, but... I wonder~ That boy looks a bit like Sakutaro! Even has ears!"

"Hoooh?~ Aaah, you're right!~ Gyahahaha!~ It's Sakutaro!"

At the sound of his name, Sakutaro's ears perked up, and he offered Maria a small, "Uryu?"

Maria giggled. "Uu, wonder if Sakutaro would be this popular if he was older? Wonder if Sakutaro would also be popular..."

"Well then, why don't we find out? Ahahahahaha!~"

"Kihihihihi!~"

In a chorus of giggles from the playful witches, Beatrice raised her golden pipe aloft. A swarm of butterflies soon began to gather around the increasingly alarmed Sakutaro.

"U-uryu? Maria?"

"Kihihi~ Don't worry, Sakutaro~ It'll be okay~"

His eyes widened a little, as a tingly feeling began to develop in his tummy; swirling up outwards, engulfing him, surrounding him, from the tips of his fingers to his toes. It felt funny. I-it felt really weird, a-and it didn't hurt, but it still wasn't very pleasant. Being played around with by witches like this wasn't so much fun; mixing drinks with Maria and eating salty peanuts was more entertaining… u-uryu…

Then, all of a sudden, the feeling began to ebb- and, all at once, it drained away...

…leaving a slightly older, taller, more slender version of the chubby, babyish Sakutaro in its wake.

The little lion cub had certainly matured into a teenager. He was tall now- just about the same height as Asmodeus, though the ears added a few extra inches. Instead of his childish yellow outfit with the white middle, he wore a fitted white shirt and black pants; just like the boy from Virgilia's manga (it was obvious that was where Beato had hastily drawn the inspiration from). His eyes were still wide, but not as wide as they were when he was younger, and they were fringed with very, very long, feminine lashes.

He was so pretty, he was exactly the kind of character that would make roses bloom behind them whenever they appeared on a page of a manga.

Yeah. Sakutaro was _that _kind of character.

A very, very pretty boy.

"Uryu...?" Confusedly, Sakutaro picked at his new outfit, looking down at himself from his elevated height in surprise. "M-maria, what-"

But Sakutaro never got to finish.

Asmodeus had just noticed him.

She had _noticed him_.

And, all of a sudden... Sakutaro wasn't just a cute little kid she could play around with. H-he was a really _hot_ (as Gaap would say), sexy, handsome _prince_!

Kyaaaaaaaa!~

Sakutaro soon found himself smothered by Asmodeus' vigorous, violent hug; her chest pressed against his side, rubbing her cheek against his, as she squealed, almost salivating from the mouth like a hungry dog.

"You're so handsome! Kyaaaaa!~ You're mine, mine, all mine! A handsome prince all for me! Kyakyakyakya!~"

Too bad Asmodeus' brief stint of hogging Sakutaro aaa~ll to herself didn't last for long.

Not when there were six other sisters to contend with.

Beatrice and Maria watched the comedic reverse-harem scene play out before them with amusement; Beatrice cackling, whilst Maria giggled- although she was just a little bit worried Leviathan and Asmodeus would, between them, manage to tear out one of Sakutaro's cute, precious arms out of their sockets.

"Gyahahaha!~ I guess Sakutaro's transformation didn't make him popular with men after all? Although... Muuu." Beatrice pouted childishly in disappointment, folding her arms. "I wanted to see a scene like that from the booook; I've never seen such a thing before. I didn't even know things like that were possible! But I guess a situation like this is what happens when all my furniture is female... Tch."

Maria smiled brightly. "Uu~ I think Sakutaro is so cute he would be popular with everyone! I don't think anybody should be excluded when it comes to playing?"

"... ...Hm. Well, maybe you're right~ Sakutaro looks like he's having fun, doesn't he?"

"Hehe. Yeah~"

Meanwhile, Sakutaro was wailing hopelessly; _"U-uryu! S-stop nibbling on my ears! S-stop it, stop it! I'm gonna to tear apart! U-u, uu... u-uryuuuuuUuUuUu!"_

* * *

><p>"Oh dear. I do apologize on behalf of those naughty sisters. Sometimes they get carried away," said Ronove softly, as he helped the trembling, ravaged form of Sakutaro gently to his feet. "Are you alright?"<p>

Sakutaro, his clothes torn, hair dishevelled, cheeks covered with a heavy blush, could only look away; relieved, but also embarrassed, that Ronove had come to save him so valiantly.

"I-I'm... I'm okay... U-uryu... ..."

"Ah, I'm glad. I suppose that's all that matters." Ronove smiled; a very soft, caring smile that made Sakutaro's cheeks turn even pinker. "Are you still able to stand?"

"I-I think so, I... I-I don't want to get in your way! I-I'll just... u-u... uryuuu?"

Luckily, when Sakutaro tripped, gracelessly tumbling over backwards... Ronove was there to catch his fall.

Roses bloomed in the background.

Or at least, they did in the minds of Beatrice and Maria, who were watching the cute scene play out before them in awe.

"Uu... ... Beato..." said Maria, gently tugging at her Teacher's sleeve, "I-I think something like that is... uu... i-it's really cute...?"

Beatrice nodded, starry eyed, and joined hands tightly with Maria.

"So do I, my dear apprentice. So do I."

Ku... kukukuku... ...~

It seemed romantic situations like this were very, very interesting after all... ...

Even to an Endless Witch.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I forgot I wrote this… o/o Uryu… Ronove x Sakutaro ftw?  
>I-it's okay, I'm only joking XD I am not so deranged… *nervous giggle*<p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	281. Cursive

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #281: Cursive

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><p>Jessica didn't understand why it was so darn impressive. So what if Lion's cursive writing, in <em>English, <em>no less, was beautiful? They were just words on a page. No, even worse- they were just like random squiggles, weren't they? What sense did English (_joined up English_, at that!) make to a Japanese person?

Jessica, to her teacher's (not to mention her mother's) disappointment, wasn't very good at English at all- quite unlike her _perfect _big sibling, Lion, who seemed to excel at whatever they did.

It wasn't fair. Jessica was never going to go to England anyways. Why did she need to learn how they spoke? Besides, English was a dumb language. It had a lot of silly rules that didn't make much sense, and there were far, far too many words than meant the same thing, and really, why was the plural of rabbit 'rabbits' but the plural of goose was 'geese'?

There was no reason at all!

It was completely ridiculous! Even Jessica, who was _seven_, realized that English was ridiculous- so why hadn't all the smart people who'd created the language in the first place realized that?

Why did Jessica have to learn something idiotic anyways?

And why, why, _why _was Jessica's stupid (well, not stupid actually, but that was why she found them so annoying!) older sibling praised so highly for their skills in such a silly language?

So what if Lion could write in joined up English? Jessica could touch her nose with her tongue, and roll her eyes to the back of her head, and dislocate her right elbow- something her friends at school considered a source of awe and inspiration, but aggravated her mother and made her sigh, in a 'where did I go wrong?' kind of way.

Whatever!

Being able to dislocate your elbow was much better than knowing where to put the apostrophe in 'couldn't', wasn't it?

It was, it was, it definitely was!

Aaah, Jessica was so sick of Lion getting the spotlight all the time, when nobody noticed her talents! Why was it always Lion, Lion, Lion? Lion this, Lion that- it wasn't faaaaair!

It was so unfair, in fact, it was enough to make the young girl run to her bedroom (disregarding her mother's shout of 'walk sensibly inside, Jessica!'), throw herself onto her bed, and scream into her cute pink and white pillow.

_Gaaaah._

Well then- if mother and father were going to fawn over Lion's latest perfect mark in English, and even ask the head chef to make a nice cake to celebrate (sponge, Lion's favorite; Lion was so _boring_), then Jessica was going to do something incredible, too! She was! And this would be even more incredible than dislocating her elbow!

Ahahahahaha!~

Lion could write in joined up English?

Well then... Jessica would have to do something more wonderful!

She couldn't wait for school the next day~

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><p>"Ah... I thought you were really beginning to understand multiplication," said the teacher, sighing, as she looked at Jessica over the top of her glasses. "What went wrong?"<p>

Jessica blushed and looked down at the floor, scuffing her shiny black school shoes against the floor. Her school shoes were always shiny because the servants cleaned them; just like her uniform, light blue sweater and dark blue skirt, were always pristine and laid out for her every morning- though her clothes typically got dirty during the day, given Jessica's games with Saku and Rin in the playground typically got rather violent.

It wasn't fair.

It really, really wasn't fair.

Jessica had just been trying to prove how smart she was, like Lion- because the teachers always said 'why can't you be more like Lion?' to her, and that was pretty annoying when she could dislocate her elbow and Lion couldn't; but Jessica _had_ tried this time.

She really, really had.

But it looked like the rules in math and the rules in English were slightly different.

In English, if you joined up your funny 'a's and 'b's and 'c's together, you were genius.

If you tried to join up your numbers in math, however, you needed to stay behind after class and talk to the teacher about 'where it all went wrong'.

Jessica pouted.

The world didn't make much sense.


	282. You shall go to the ball

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun****  
><strong>Short #282: You shall go to the ball

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><p>"May I have your honest OPINION? Do you think this is becoming on ME?"<p>

Erika looked Dlanor up and down dispassionately, eyes narrowed, arms folded. She regarded Dlanor with little interest, as though the young girl was a potato, or some other equally banal vegetable that didn't even deserve a mere glance from the self-proclaimed 'great detective'- but perhaps Erika's blank expression was slightly forced, not entirely natural.

After all, Dlanor was decidedly much, much more interesting than a potato. Especially when she was attired in an outfit slightly (alright, _immensely_) different to the norm.

Instead of her strange black swimming costume and royal blue coat combination, the young girl was attired in a rather pretty formal dress that would not have looked out of place on some of the more old-fashioned, refined witches. It was a light blue color layered on top of a white underskirt that cut just above the knees, with a square neckline bordered with ruffles and puff sleeves. To complete and compliment the innocent look such a dress exuded, Dlanor wore white stockings, black shoes, and an expression of very vague discomfort.

"...I don't get it. Why are you dressed up? Are we having some kind of party?" Erika asked, rolling her eyes. "Should I have brought my pirate hat?"

Dlanor tipped her head to one side, lavender curls shifting slightly. Instead of being affronted at Erika's sarcasm, she instead looked... she looked slightly confused?

"No. It is not a fancy dress PARTY," said Dlanor earnestly. "I am sorry to cause any CONFUSION. But, if you enjoy wearing that hat, you could if you WANT? I think it suits YOU."

"Yeah, sure, I'll just walk around in a pirate hat- why not. There's nothing odd about that, is there?"

"If that is what you wish to do, I think you should do IT."

"I... no, I wasn't being serious, it... It was..."

"...Miss Erika?"

"Oh, forget it," said Erika moodily. And then, as an afterthought, she couldn't help but tack on a childish, "...Stupid murder doll."

Dlanor had an incredibly sharp mind and could solve some of the most complex mysteries or puzzles in a matter of moments, no matter how difficult a problem scenario Erika threw at her- but when it came to human interactions, Dlanor was... somewhat lacking. For all her intellectual prowess, she didn't seem to understand sarcasm very well and always took everything Erika said very, very seriously.

Erika wasn't entirely sure if Dlanor truly believed everything Erika said as the truth, or whether Dlanor was, in some odd little way, trying to tease her by acting so deadpan. Dlanor couldn't have been that trusting, surely...?

Then again, maybe she could've.

Erika didn't like stupid people- and if Dlanor couldn't understand sarcasm, she was definitely stupid. So it was fine being mean to her.

...Or something.

Erika wasn't very good at this 'having friends' thing. She hadn't had any for quite some time, so this was all very funny to her... though, slightly less 'amusing', and far more 'unnerving'. Was she meant to be nice to Dlanor unconditionally? Or were friends allowed to be mean, tease and bicker all the time?

Guh.

This was why Erika didn't like having friends. She wasn't good at it, and she didn't like being reminded of things she wasn't good at; it put dint in her ego. So it was best to not have friends at all, wasn't it?

Although... talking to Dlanor was always fun, she supposed... ...?

"So, why _are_ you wearing that dress?" Erika asked again. "Did you _finally_ listen to my advice and change your typical inquisitor's uniform for something that covers more skin? Ha." She smirked. "Not that felling witches in a dress like _that _is practical, either."

"No. This is not my inquisitor's UNIFORM. That is still the SAME," said Dlanor, serious as ever. "Gertrude bought this outfit for me for a special OCCASION."

"Ooh, a public execution? Is an inquisitor going to put on a big show beheading a witch?"

"No. We don't turn executions into SPECTACLES. It is cruel and DEMEANING." A slight frown crossed Dlanor's lips briefly. "Why would you want to watch something like that, Miss Erika?" A small sigh. "I thought you had overcome some of your CRUELTY?"

"… …Tch. Don't take everything I say so seriously you stupid murder doll."

"You... weren't SERIOUS?"

"No. Well. Maybe. Half and half. Who knows." Erika shrugged carelessly. "Now, tell me before the suspense kills me. Where _are_ you going in that dress?"

Dlanor shifted slightly, maybe a little... uncomfortably?... as her pale fingers tugged at the lacy hem of her dress. Erika smirked. Was it possible the typically unshakable Dlanor A. Knox, who felled witches without complaint, actually felt awkward to wear such a dress?

Uufufufu… how pathetic.

Slowly, Dlanor said, eyes trained on the floor, "There is a ceremonial ball being held amongst the Great Courts of Heaven to commemorate the memory of my FATHER... Although I don't typically attend such events, given they last long into the night and I am just a kid, I... ... Gertrude said I had to attend this ONE. It would be rude if I did not celebrate the life of my own FATHER. But... ..."

Erika's gaze softened slightly as she watched Dlanor tug uncharacteristically on her dress; tangling the material up between her white, slender fingers.

It was rare for Dlanor to openly display any signs of stress.

It was even rarer for her to stop talking mid-sentence.

"I... I do not really wish to attend this BALL. It... is quite... PAINFUL. And there are some things I do not wish to REMEMBER. Even though it might be heartless to say such a THING. I am not SURE. I do not KNOW... ..."

Dlanor... really was worried about this ball, wasn't she? Or maybe... she was less worried about falling asleep in the canapés, or messing up her dance steps... and, rather, she was... just upset about the memory of her father.

Her father she had killed.

Something like that must have been difficult to cope with.

Erika didn't really try to understand others' problems, given she had quite enough of her own to be getting along with- and anyway, Erika wasn't really the sentimental type, and boring, tear-filled, stinking, rotten garbage about ~past tragedies~ and ~I'm oh so sad~ and ~please pity me~ and ~I'm going to act pathetic and miserable so other people can lick my shoes and praise my name to make me feel better~ really, really pissed her off. She hated people who acted sad, like their problems were sooo important, when in the grand scheme of things, they weren't at all.

The insignificant worries of humans were absolutely useless, stupid, idiotic- _aaah, I don't care, I don't care at all; and there comes a point where watching others be miserable stops being entertaining and just gets really boring, you know? There's a reason Van Dine said detective novels shouldn't be saturated with all these feelings; they get in the way of logic and reason, and they're just not fun to hear about!_

But, when Dlanor was upset, it… it was... a little different.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Dlanor lifted her head and said, "I do not wish to remember my Father's memory because it is SAD. I dislike feeling SAD. I'm only a KID. So I don't want to GO. But Gertrude said I SHOULD. But I do not KNOW. What do you think, Miss Erika?"

Urgh.

Erika was no good at dealing with feelings- not like this; not all of a sudden!

B-being sympathetic was something she could not do! It always made her feel superficial when she comforted other people, as though she didn't truly mean what she said- and in the end, that was true.

B-but with Dlanor...

"A-ah... um... You mean... what do you think about your dress?"

Dlanor shook her head slowly. "No. This is not about my DRESS. I do not think it was to begin WITH."

Erika had never seen Dlanor looking more despondent, almost... depressed... a-and although it shouldn't have done, and Erika was very glad really (she was glad, honestly she was glad!) that most people had loathed her too much to ever even dream of confessing their problems to her... felt just a little bit flattering, she supposed, that Dlanor had chosen to confide in her.

And, although Erika hated to admit it... maybe she could emphasize (something she'd never done before) a bit.

After all... she missed her parents, too.

"A-ah, um... I-I don't really understand why you're telling me this," said Erika, voice faltering. "I-I'm not going to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be okay, you know? That's not what I do. I think you're talking to the wrong person."

"But I wanted to talk to YOU."

"Why? That's... t-that's stupid. That's really stupid! You stupid murder doll... ..."

Dlanor looked at Erika straight in the eye, and said clearly, so there was no mistaking it, "I wanted to talk to you because you are my friend and I trust YOU. I value your OPINION. That's WHY."

A-ah... well, um...

A-aaah...

Erika couldn't remember the last time anybody had ever said anything to her like that before.

Her cheeks turned a very light shade of pink.

"...Did I say something STRANGE?" asked Dlanor, looking at Erika curiously. "I apologize if I made you feel UNCOMFORTABLE. I am not very proficient in sharing my emotions with other people, so-"

"N-no...! N-no, it's... I'm fine! I'm fine! Ahaha!" Erika retorted- a little laugh tacked on the end there, that was meant to sound unaffected but instead was a little hysterical. "A-ah, w-well... i-if you want to confide in me, you're even stupider than I thought."

"Maybe... But I have heard friendship isn't RATIONAL. It is not like playing a game of CHESS. People do not always make the best MOVES."

"T-that's precisely why feelings should be exorcized from mystery novels, s-so it doesn't became a pile of self-indulgent, whining-"

"Do forgive me for interrupting, but my personal feelings not a mystery NOVEL. So I believe Van Dine does not APPLY. I can make what moves I LIKE." Dlanor tilted her head. "Is that FAIR?"

"Ah, well... I-I... guess? But... you're still an idiot."

"That is FINE. If being friends with Miss Erika means I am an idiot, then I can accept IT. After all..."

A very, very small smile faintly crossed Dlanor's face.

"Confessing my selfish feelings to you, Miss Erika, has already made me feel a bit BETTER. So being your friend cannot be a bad THING. I feel happier just being with YOU. After all… you are my best FRIEND."


	283. A boring Monday morning

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #263: A boring Monday morning

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><p>"Ah... Gertrude is so cool..."<p>

Waiting in the lengthy queue for the photocopier on an overcast Monday morning, there was little else for Cornelia to do other than stand around, crinkled papers clutched in her hands, and be bored.

On Mondays the offices of Heaven were always hit with an influx of forms and reports that had accumulated during the weekend, when most priests were allowed a small respite in their otherwise busy working days. Therefore, this long line at the photocopier was something Cornelia was accustomed to.

Unfortunately, the young third class priest wasn't particularly good at standing still for long stretches of time. She was an energetic, hot-blooded girl who always had to be moving; always had to be doing something- otherwise, she felt like she was wasting her time.

It made her feel like a failure.

When Cornelia signed up to become a member of Eiserne Jungfrau, she'd thought she would spend a lot more time actually sentencing witches- not just signing things, dating reports and printing out sheets of paper. Although Cornelia didn't want to insult her job, which she thought highly of, she couldn't help but getting a little bit restless from time to time.

She wanted to be out there _doing _something. She wanted it so badly it felt like her blood was moving too quickly inside her little body; telling her to move, and fast.

Cornelia twitched; toes curling up in her regulation black shoes, fingers routinely reaching into her bobbed hair to play around with her favorite yellow ribbons.

She bit her lower lip.

She checked her cuticles.

She sighed.

She pouted.

She looked at the floor.

And, as the very slow moving line snaked just a little bit closer to the photocopier, Cornelia's eyes caught on something... rather interesting.

It was far more interesting than the dirt under her nails, or the bloated fish swimming lazily in their tank in the corner, or the blindingly white décor of Heaven's offices.

From this viewpoint, Cornelia could clearly through the glass window of Gertrude's office, and Cornelia- filled with respect for those who were actually experienced when it came to conducting real trials- couldn't help but watch her. Gertrude was not doing anything particularly exciting (it was a Monday morning, after all); she was poring over a few reports spread out on her desk, with a look of concentration in her piercing red eyes... but even so, every single inch of Gertrude seemed hewn from steel; standing to attention. There was such an aura of maturity and severity about the first class Iron Maiden that Cornelia couldn't help but feel a little inadequate about how she herself had been internally complaining earlier.

Gertrude was such a hard worker. She never complained, even when she had to fulfil boring tasks. She completed them all flawlessly, with a cool kind of grace and elegance. The way she held her pen, and pressed it expertly to the white paper, even made Cornelia's heart flutter.

Gertrude... really was Cornelia's ideal.

Cornelia wanted to grow up fast and become a wonderful person just like her.

"Yeah... Gertrude... really is cool..." the younger girl whispered under her breath; her awed voice inaudible to everybody except her (though those reading her lips from a distance might have assumed she'd something about pork cutlet sandwiches). "I... I'm going... to do my best... to be just like her... I-I can be that responsible too. I-"

And then a monotone voice just a little behind jerked Cornelia out of her resolutions quite effectively.

"Hey. You're next in line for the photocopier. You're holding everybody up, idiot."

Cornelia's face turned light pink.

"U-uwah...! I-I'm sorry... ...!"

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><p>The ever mature and responsible Gertrude sighed softly to herself; idly signing a bunch of dull forms Dlanor, by all rights, should have been doing herself (that girl had no tolerance for repetitive tasks like this)- but her mind was one thousand miles away.<p>

Internally, Gertrude was fretting.

_I hope my cats back home have enough food... I did leave out enough, didn't I? I'm sure I did. I must have done. But what if I haven't...? I don't want them to start chewing up the couch again...! Aah, I wonder why they insist on doing that? Maybe I should talk to Mr. Willard; he has a cat, so perhaps he is a better pet owner than myself... But, was there enough food...?_

Even the mature and responsible Gertrude could get distracted sometimes.

Especially on a Monday morning.

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><p><strong>an: **Haai, I'm back n_n And hopefully I can start updating this collection regularly again now ^_^;; Sorry for the delay.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	284. This is Halloween

**Being Dysfunctional Has Never Been So Much Fun  
><strong>Short #284: This is Halloween

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><p>Rosa hadn't wanted to buy it – really, she hadn't. Maria was too old to be getting excitable about such strange things at her age; and, at any rate, it was making the other children, the other parents, and, worse, the teachers, <em>talk<em>.

'What a strange child, to be so interested in the occult.'

'That can't be a healthy hobby, can it?'

'It's just not _normal_.'

Rosa knew, behind backs, spoken in poisonous whispers as soft as falling feathers, that was what they were all saying. That was what they thought. So, she simply couldn't put up with Maria's nonsense anymore. Witches; demons; magic ceremonies? It was all ridiculous!

But when Maria saw the pumpkin in the grocery section of the supermarket, she just kept blabbering on and on about it, and wouldn't keep quiet.

"Mama, mama!" Maria had hollered innocently, tugging at her mother's hand, "it's a pumpkin, mama!"

"I'm well aware of that – but we don't need any pumpkins in our curry rice, now, do we?" Rosa had said, trying to force a smile. "Now, come along, dear."

Maria, however, was stubborn – a trait that she had no doubt inherited from Rosa herself – and she refused to be budged.

"No, mama, you don't understand. Maria doesn't want the pumpkin to eat. It's to carve, for Halloween! You need to have a pumpkin on Halloween! Uu, uu!"

Rosa groaned. She knew, if she didn't play along with Maria, there would be tears and tantrums. That's how it always was with Maria. And, they were in the middle of a busy supermarket. If she started making a ruckus here, it would be impossible to hide. Everybody would see. And, Rosa wasn't always able to control her temper when Maria got into a state. If she raised her hand to her daughter, surrounded by the eyes of so many onlookers, then…

Rosa winced. She was beginning to feel a headache coming on. Now, she understood how Natsuhi felt.

Surely, to minimize any damage to her reputation, and to avoid the scathing looks of the other shoppers, it would be best to listen to Maria – just this once. It was only one pumpkin, after all; and even though Halloween wasn't particularly popular in Japan, it wasn't unheard of for young children to get excitable about it. So, although Halloween was related to the occult, if Maria wanted to carve a pumpkin, that wasn't so weird, was it…?

And yet… wasn't that pathetic, for a grown woman to be constantly bested by an eight year old girl? Wasn't that truly laughable? And, over something as silly as this…

Because of her foolish pride as a grown woman, Rosa couldn't let it slide so easily.

"No, Maria – it's a waste of money, and I don't want to have something so weird in the house. Now, come along."

But, predictably, Maria wasn't happy about this.

"No, mama! It's a pumpkin! You _need _a pumpkin for Halloween! It's not Halloween without a pumpkin!"

"And whoever said we were going to celebrate Halloween?"

"Maria says! Maria says! Maria wants to celebrate; Maria wants to dress as a witch, and carve a pumpkin, and meet with Beatrice and all her friends, and go flying through the night sky! Uu, uu!"

By this point, Maria's babbling was clearly drawing attention from the others. Some of them gave Rosa pitying looks, sympathising with this problem child; whilst others skirted away, looking disgusted, as though they had seen a cockroach.

Both reactions filled Rosa with anger.

Was her child really such a miserable, loathsome sight…? How did that reflect on her, then…?

"Maria…"

"Uu! No, no, no! Not moving until we buy the pumpkin! Not moving! Uu, uu, uu!"

If an elderly woman hadn't taken that moment to intervene, asking worriedly if there was a problem, Rosa might have lost control and struck her daughter, then and there. However, because of this unexpected interlude, she was able to catch her breath; come to her senses.

"Oh, um… Yes. My daughter's alright. She's just… very enthusiastic about Halloween. I tell her it's a silly American holiday, and I don't want to waste money on such things, but…"

The old woman chuckled. "Oh, that's alright. It's just a bit of harmless fun. I helped my own granddaughter carve a pumpkin yesterday. I've never done such a thing before, but… I suppose these new, exciting innovations makes life a bit more enjoyable, hohoh~"

…And, after this, Rosa felt she couldn't _not _buy Maria the pumpkin. Not after this old woman had spoken so fondly of Halloween. If Rosa continued to act like it was something abhorrent, _she_ would surely look like the strange one.

So, Rosa bought Maria the pumpkin – even though she didn't want to. And that was how the pair of them found themselves sitting around the kitchen table, pumpkin in the middle, discussing what to do with it.

"Be careful with that knife, Maria," said Rosa tiredly; now feeling too exhausted to make that curry she had promised Maria, and had gone to the supermarket specifically to buy ingredients for.

Maria giggled. "Uu! I will, mama! Maria will be really, really careful, because she's got to carve a very delicate shape!"

"Oh? And what's that?"

Maria smiled. "Why – of course, Maria will carve one of Beato's golden butterflies! Kihihihihi…"

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><p><strong>AN:** Except it is not Halloween, but oh well u_u;;  
>Yeah... I have decided (mostly after re-reading some of Seacats with a friend tonight, and re-realising just how much I really do love this series) to keep on with this collection, until I have 300 shorts. Then, I'll mark it as complete, and I can rest peacefully, hohohoh~ Thank you for your continued support up until now; I will try not to let you down! n_n;; I will see if I can still update once a day until the end... maybe not, but we shall see o:<p> 


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